The Internet Police: The Scum of the Web
by TheInventor
Summary: The internet can be called the new Wild West: an archaic and barbaric place that we spend much of our time within. The only thing standing between the chaos of the internet and you is the Internet Police, a secret organization dedicated to bringing law and order to the internet. Join agents such as the Nostalgia Critic as they protect the earth from the scum of the web.
1. The Revelation, Part 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Nostalgia Critic, the Angry Video Game Nerd, or any of the other internet celebrities or memes mentioned in this story. **

The Internet Police: The Scum of the Web

The Revelation, Part 1

In a warehouse at the South Side of Chicago, someone is stirring trouble with the crates situated within the building. Inside these crates are chipmunk feed, a supply of food that fellow Chicagoans would give to the innocent chipmunks of the windy city. The suspect is now placing a vial of liquid into the crates, unaware of two men. One of them is dressed in a white shirt with a pen pocket and the other possessing a black cap and a black jacket adorned with a white t-shirt and a red tie. The former is called the Angry Video Game Nerd. The latter is known as the Nostalgia Critic. They are members of a top-secret organization, and they are about to make another arrest in protecting the world from the scum of the web.

"There he is, using his paws to commit another crime against the poor citizens of Chicago," whispered the Angry Video Game Nerd. "That fucking thing is going to hurt all the squirrels in this city".

"Actually," whispered the Nostalgia Critic, "he's going to harm all those sweet, innocent chipmunks. Those little fuckers won't know what's coming towards them."

"Well those little fuckers won't have to worry about this thing messing with them ever again once we deal with him," whispered the Angry Video Game Nerd. "What's the name of this perpetrator again?"

"His name," said the Nostalgia Critic reading off of the Global Electronic Database (G.E.D.)," is the Dramatic Chipmunk."

The two agents are looking through their binoculars and seeing the dastardly creature continue to pour the unknown substance into the crates, knowing full well of how dangerous he could be when angered.

"I say that we go get him, guns blazing, and arrest that little chipmunk in a surprise attack," said the Nostalgia Critic in a determined tone. "I hate chipmunks so much since they ruined Alvin and the Chipmunks with those god-awful movies. I mean Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel, come on!"

"You do realize that thing is a prairie dog," exclaimed the Angry Video Game Nerd in a matter of fact tone.

"Whatever," said the Nostalgia Critic, "Those other chipmunks need our protection, whether we like them or not."

Before the two agents could say anything else, the Dramatic Chipmunk has turned his head towards them, displaying his trademark stare in all of its full glory. At the same time, the Nostalgia Critic's cell phone began projecting its ringtone: The score from Mel Brook's Young Frankenstein.

"Can you at least turn off your ringtone when we're on an important mission?" said the Angry Video Game Nerd in an exasperated voice.

"Sorry," said the Nostalgia Critic apologetically, "I just love that movie, Young Frankenstein that is."

The Dramatic Chipmunk takes out his miniature laser gun, which permeates the sound of mechanical clicks in indicating that the gun is armed and very dangerous.

"I think he's seriously going to fire that weapon at us," indicated the Nostalgia Critic. "And he's currently pointing the gun directly at our hearts. I think this is a good time to run for our lives, Angry Video Game Nerd."

"Fuck yeah we should," said the Angry Video Game Nerd.

The two agents run towards opposing directions as a crater appears in the same place that they were just standing at.

"What is that chipmunk packing anyway? Acorns?" said the Angry Video Game Nerd.

"It's actually a prairie dog, Nerd," shouted the Nostalgia Critic from the opposite side of the warehouse.

"Yeah," shouted the Angry Video Game Nerd. "How about using my Walter PPK to disable that little rascal?"

The Angry Video Game Nerd points his Walter PPK at the devilish prairie dog, with the little troublemaker shooting his laser gun and reducing the Walter PPK into liquid goo.

"Shit!" shouted the Angry Video Game Nerd. "That gun was handed to me by MI6 itself, the legendary gun of James Bond. That fucking chipmunk ruined this beautiful weapon."

"It's actually a prairie dog," said the Nostalgia Critic.

"I don't care if it's a chipmunk, prairie dog, or a pile of bullshit, it's going to pay for this!" yelled the Angry Video Game Nerd.

"Don't worry," assured the Nostalgia Critic. "I got just the thing to defeat that Overtly Dramatic Chipmunk. I call it the worst form of torture known to all of reality. I call it DuckTales."

The Nostalgia Critic pulls out his G.E.D. and searches through the files for the DuckTales theme song.

"Put on your earplugs, quickly!" shouted the Nostalgia Critic towards the Angry Video Game Nerd.

The Nostalgia Critic presses the play button as the Dramatic Chipmunk turns to face the Nostalgia Critic, prepared for a Mexican standoff. Little did he know that he would be bested not by guns but by a children's song.

"Life is like a hurricane, here in Duckburg!" sang the G.E.D. "Race cars, lasers, airplanes, it's a duck blur. You might solve a mystery or rewrite history. Duck Tales, Oo-oo. Tales of derring-do, bad and good luck tales, oo-oo."

"Make it stop, make it stop!" cried the Dramatic Chipmunk in agony as he covers his ears.

The Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd saw the Dramatic Chipmunk fall over in defeat, resigning to the fact that he was defeated by DuckTales.

"So little chipmunk, or should I rather say little prairie dog," said the Angry Video Game Nerd with a smile on his face, "why would you want to hurt your fellow 'chipmunks'?"

"Look here, you brainless apes," proclaimed the Dramatic Chipmunk, "the liquid I just poured into these crates is hypnotizing juice. They're just meant for the chipmunks to obey every one of my orders so that my fellow chipmunks can rise up and destroy the prairie dog clan, the group I never wanted to be a part of. With the prairie dog clan destroyed, I could lead the New Chipmunk Order to rule over the ruins of the prairie dog nation and create a new world that would establish a world filled with greater ambition, pride, and more Alvin and the Chipmunk movies for all members of the animal kingdom."

"I agree with all of your goals," said the Nostalgia Critic, "except for more Alvin and the Chipmunk movies. You want to release those pieces of abominations onto a pure world. You're evil, Dramatic Chipmunk. I'm placing you under arrest for mass mind control, endangering law enforcement, and most importantly of all, for threatening the world with more Alvin and the Chipmunk movies. We, the Internet Police, have defeated your nefarious scheme once and for all."

The Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd immediately escorted the Dramatic Chipmunk to their parked DeLoreans. Unknown to the both of them, they were being watched by a brunette woman in her early twenties. This woman was named Aubrey Aiese. She was a minor internet celebrity who was famous for her YouTube video 51 Things I found Around My House. She's a struggling artist who became a journalist to make ends meet in her home in Brooklyn, New York. Being a journalist for the New York Times, she was sent to Chicago for an assignment regarding the distribution of the city's acorns. Aubrey thought that this would be an incredibly easy and ordinary task to perform for the New York Times, if a little tedious. If Aubrey thought that her assignment at the warehouse would be just another day at the office, she was wrong. In fact, she was very, very wrong.

"What did I just witness?" exclaimed Aubrey as she remained in the warehouse clutching the notebook that contained outlines for her planned newspaper articles as well as a few scattered doodles done in her spare time.

At the warehouse, Aubrey was searching through the various boxes of acorns as a means of researching for her newspaper article when she heard a squeaky voice emanating within the warehouse. Fearing the worst, Aubrey immediately hid behind a particularly large box, and then afterwards, she saw two unusual events taking place before her eyes: A prairie dog taking out a vial of liquid and two men, who failed to notice her when they snuck into the warehouse, attempting to take down this creature from controlling Chicago's chipmunks. Aubrey failed to catch the names of the two men, whom engaged in combat with the prairie dog as she ducked and covered behind the enormous box. The next thing she knew, the two men were arresting the animal and taking him into a DeLorean straight from Back to the Future. Aubrey, after a few moments to gather her thoughts on the whole situation, decided to return back to her hotel, calling her younger sister to discuss the situation.

"You're just being silly," said her sister on the telephone. "Do you really expect me to believe that two men just fought a talking prairie dog in a warehouse? The whole event is just ridiculous in my opinion."

"You got to believe me, sis," said Aubrey in desperation. "I caught the whole thing on camera."

Aubrey searched through her purse for her camera, and after a few minutes of rummaging, her heart sank as she saw the camera stationed on the nearby bedside table. Aubrey knew she lacked the proper proof of her outlandish claim.

"Listen, Aubrey," said her sister, "maybe you're just not getting enough sleep. You've been working so hard for the past few months to make ends meet after your failed endeavors as an artist. You come up with these delusions as a means of dealing with your harsh environment. Please. As your little sister, get some rest after your long, hard day."

After the frustration phone conversation, Aubrey laid back onto her bed, drifting into a long sleep as she contemplated whether her little sister was right: The whole fight at the warehouse was just an illusion to deal with her pessimistic psyche.

For the past few days, Aubrey had completely ignored her story about Chicago's acorns, devoting her time instead in searching for answers regarding the mysterious Internet Police, the organization in which the two men were a part of.

"The two men at the warehouse mentioned that they have captured the Dramatic Chipmunk," said Aubrey as she sat on her bed with the laptop in front of her. "Maybe I should search for the Dramatic Chipmunk on Google as a way of finding out more about him."

To her amazement, there were no results for the Dramatic Chipmunk on Google, YouTube, or any other websites. She had vaguely heard about the Dramatic Chipmunk, and she had watched the 5 second video of the creature staring at the camera. Now, the same 5 second video she had observed was given a new title: Dramatic Prairie Dog.

"There must a connection," thought Aubrey, "the term 'Dramatic Chipmunk' has been completely obliterated from the internet and replaced with 'Dramatic Prairie Dog', with this change occurring just a few days after the Internet Police arrested that talking prairie dog."

Filled with excitement, Aubrey searched desperately on the internet for more answers regarding the Internet Police, passing by articles detailing the unrealistic photographs of the so-called Disaster Girl (which included her causing the extinction of the dinosaurs and the rise of the Nazis). Through patience and determination, she found more cases in which the Internet Police were involved.

"The Balloon Boy Hoax," said Aubrey reading the caption underneath a photo of investigators interrogating the father and searching the helium balloon, "the event that involved a family lying to the world about the incredible flight of a boy in the air. The following photo was taken as revelations about the family's true intentions were being revealed."

Aubrey saw two figures in the background, and as a result, she zoomed onto them and saw the two men, the same two men she witnessed at the warehouse, in the photograph. They were searching through the balloon, seemingly shaking their heads in disbelief. In further curiosity, Aubrey proceeded to read the comments section of the photograph.

"Those two men in the background are the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd," stated one comment.

"No they're not," countered another comment, "they're just two investigators who happen to dress up like the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd."

"Yeah," proclaimed another comment, "it's highly unlikely that the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd would have time to become professional detectives. Stop using your imagination, everyone."

Aubrey began to become skeptical towards her previous belief. Were two of the most famous internet celebrities, the Angry Video Game Nerd and the Nostalgia Critic, really part of a secret organization or were the two men she saw at the warehouse really just unknown men who just happen to fit the description of both the Angry Video Game Nerd and the Nostalgia Critic.

"What do you mean you don't have an article about Chicago's acorns?" said the New York Times manager the next day. "What have you been doing for the past few days?"

"Sorry," said Aubrey apologetically, "I just haven't been able to work on the article due to my tired state and low stamina."

"Well you better get that article finished or I'm going to have to reduce your paycheck again," said the New York Times manager.

Aubrey hanged up the phone and began writing an article about Chicago's acorns, doing a hackneyed job as a way of finishing this mundane task quickly. Feeling accomplished with her job, she decided to go out and eat a pizza at a local Italian restaurant. At the restaurant, Aubrey's thoughts became more calm and tranquil, and though the pizza was incredibly thick to her liking (she preferred the thin pizzas of her native Brooklyn), Aubrey felt she had returned to her comfort zone. Just then, Aubrey saw the DeLorean driving by the restaurant, travelling extremely quickly according to her analysis.

"That's odd." she remarked as she paid the bill for her pizza.

Aubrey knew that this may be the only opportunity to once again observe the two men, who could possibly be the Angry Video Game Nerd and the Nostalgia Critic, taking down another target. Rushing back into her car, Aubrey proceeded to follow the DeLorean in a stealthy manner. The DeLorean Aubrey was pursuing made its way to Springfield, the capital of Illinois, and surprisingly, she went unnoticed by the inhabitants of the DeLorean. Eventually, the DeLorean was parked in front of the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum, with Aubrey witnessing the two men leaving it. These two men look exactly like the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd. Aubrey decided to follow them in order to be sure of that claim.

"Can I please have one ticket into the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum?" said Aubrey to the museum receptionist. "Thank you." she added later after being handed the ticket.

Aubrey made her way through the museum, passing by a group of elementary school children. Aubrey saw that one little girl was particularly fascinated by the handwritten Gettysburg Address, with an unusual smile on her face. Ignoring the little girl, Aubrey continued to search the museum for the two men, finally spotting them next to replicas of the Lincoln family in the main courtyard.

"I must say, Nostalgia Critic, that you have a striking resemblance to Abraham Lincoln if you put on the top hat and his coat." said the Angry Video Game Nerd.

"No I don't, Angry Video Game Nerd." said the Nostalgia Critic, "I am nothing like Abraham Lincoln. He's honest and sensitive. I'm a dirty, rotten bastard. Let's get back on track with the case. Our sources tell us that the criminal is going to steal something from this museum. We need to figure out who that individual is."

Aubrey watched the two men as she now realized that they were in fact the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd.

"We don't know who this person is," said the Nostalgia Critic, "Our etch-it-sketch image on our G.E.D. is currently empty, meaning that we're basically walking blind in this investigation."

Aubrey was amazed at how these two men were seemingly clueless in preventing a robbery from taking place, with Aubrey being knowledgeable about the earlier triumph against the Dramatic Chipmunk.

"Think, Aubrey, think." she thought to herself as she began to concentrate on what she found out for the past few days.

Suddenly, Aubrey remembered the little girl she passed by during her search for the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd. She was in fact Disaster Girl, the girl who had supposedly caused all of the natural and man-made disasters throughout history! Fearing the worst, Aubrey immediately headed back to the group of elementary school students, with Aubrey seeing that one student was missing.

"Excuse me," Aubrey said as she asked the teacher, "can you please tell me where one of your students went?"

"Oh, she went to see the Emancipation Proclamation displayed in this museum." said the teacher. "Hey, where are you going!" shouted the teacher as Aubrey ran towards the room displaying the Emancipation Proclamation.

Aubrey found the room containing the Emancipation Proclamation, with one little girl being positioned inside of it holding a match.

"Stop right there, little girl!" yelled Aubrey as the little girl turned around, smiling at her.

"Well, young lady," said Disaster Girl, "look like Abraham Lincoln will be assassinated a second time once his legacy goes up into smoke. I am Disaster Girl, the bringer of chaos and destruction."

"Freeze!" shouted the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd as they entered the room, with their guns pointing at Disaster Girl. "You're under arrest in the name of the Internet Police."

"Look like we're at stalemate fellas." said Disaster Girl in a gleeful tone. "If you shoot me, I'll drop this match onto the carpet floor covered in kerosene, lighting Lincoln's legacy on fire."

As the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd continued to point their guns at Disaster Girl, Aubrey realized the flaw in the plan: the match had a limited lifespan. If all of them simply played the waiting game, then the match would simply be consumed by the flame and fail to light anything else on fire.

"Hey guys." Aubrey whispered into the ears of the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd.

"Not now, young lady," the Nostalgia Critic said.

"We're the professionals here. Just leave." said the Angry Video Game Nerd as he rebuffed Aubrey.

"Still waiting." said Disaster Girl as the match continued to burn.

"I'm going to seriously fire." exclaimed the Nostalgia Critic as he aimed his gun at Disaster Girl's head. "I'll give you to the count of three to extinguish that fire."

"Don't do it!" yelled Aubrey.

"One!" said the Nostalgia Critic as Disaster Girl continued her smile.

"There's another way!" exclaimed Aubrey.

"Two!" said the Nostalgia Critic

"I beg you not to do it," said Aubrey.

"Two and a half!" said the Nostalgia Critic.

"No!" shouted Aubrey as she lunged towards the two men.

"Get out of the way!" screamed the Angry Video Game Nerd as he pushed Aubrey onto the floor as the Nostalgia Critic began to pull the trigger.

"Three!" yelled the Nostalgia Critic as he fired his bullet, missing Disaster Girl in the process.

"You missed." said Disaster Girl with a wicked smile as she released the match onto the floor, igniting the whole room in flames.

"She's getting away!" yelled the Nostalgia Critic as she saw Disaster Girl escaping through an open window that was now blocked by the fire, "And it's all your fault, young lady!"

Aubrey never felt more angry or humiliated in her life. She wanted to leave both of these men in the room, consumed by the flames of ignorance and arrogance. But she knew that she needed to help them no matter if they were cruel or not.

"Let's get out of here!" yelled the Angry Video Game Nerd as he and the Nostalgia Critic headed out of the burning room.

Aubrey remained in the burning room as she saw the Emancipation Proclamation about to be consumed by the inferno. Knowing the historical and cultural importance of this document, she immediately found a nearby fire extinguisher and began spraying the fire in an attempt to create a clear path towards the Emancipation Proclamation.

"A little bit closer." said Aubrey as she moved closer towards the document, fighting through the fire and the smoke choking her lungs.

Finally, she reached the glass containing the Emancipation Proclamation. She smashed the glass case with the fire extinguisher, taking out the Emancipation Proclamation in the process.

"Now to get out of here." said Aubrey as she headed for the door out of the room for she knew that she would not survive the long fall out of the window.

Aubrey struggled through the flames, and as she made her way through the smoked-filled hallways, she collapsed and lost all consciousness, losing the Emancipation Proclamation in the nearby flames

"Oh man," said the Nostalgia Critic as he saw the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum go up into smoke, "the Chief's going to kill us for this."

"When we ran out of the room," said the Angry Video Game Nerd, "we didn't see that young woman follow us. We should have pulled her with us out of that room. It's our own fault if she dies in this fire."

The Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd saw the firefighters leading a congregation of frightened elementary school children out of the museum, with the other firefighters heading into the building in fighting off the fire. A ping of guilt was felt by the both of them as two firefighters carried the young woman, whom the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd abandoned to save their own skins, out of the museum, with the woman being unconscious.

"We pulled her out of the hallway." said the firefighter as he attached an oxygen mask over Aubrey's nose and mouth. "She's lucky to still be alive."

The Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd drove the DeLorean away from the scene as they thought about how they were unable to pull off the same heroics as Aubrey had done considering she wasn't even a part of the Internet Police.

"Where am I?" said Aubrey as she opened her eyes for the first time in a few days.

Aubrey saw that she was in the hospital, with her bedside table occupied by get-well cards from her family and friends. After reading all of these cards, she saw one of the nurses enter into the room, stating that she has a phone-call from work.

"Hello." said Aubrey as she answered the phone from bed.

"Hello, Aubrey," answered the manager for the New York Times, "I'm sorry about your accident, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to relieve you of your job due to budget cuts here at the New York Times. You appear to be too much of a liability for us. I apologize for the inconvenience in light of the recent economic difficulties. Have a good day."

Aubrey placed the phone down onto the bed, and she began to weep, with the palm of her hand covering the tears now flowing in light of this recent setback. As the days passed by, Aubrey wasted away, staring at the ceiling as if her destiny would be found above the floor just as one would gaze upon the stars in interpreting the future. Besides wasting away, Aubrey spent her time reading the newspapers given to her by the hospital staff. The headlines made no mention of Aubrey's attempt to save the Emancipation Proclamation but focused on new reality television shows, the exploits of politicians, and the economic gap between rich and poor.

"Perhaps the world isn't fit for anyone anymore." mourned Aubrey. "Good deeds go unpublished while the vices and corruption of society are covered readily by the press.

In an attempt to cheer her up, the hospital staff provided Aubrey with some paper and crayons, which gave Aubrey some semblance of happiness over the past few days. She drew images of flowers, lakes, mountainsides, and magnificent villas alongside the ocean. After drawing a glorious sunset occurring in the English countryside, Aubrey fell into a deep sleep.

"Your conduct at the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum was unacceptable!" shouted the Chief, who was positioned in her office at the Headquarters of the Internet Police and was glaring at the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd.

The Chief, an African-American woman dressed in a red and yellow dress, had recently heard about the debacle at the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum. She knew all the details of the incident by way of listening to an electronic bug installed into the G.E.D.s of the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Your record is shoddy at best, but what you did at the museum was beyond what I imagined both of you would do." said the Chief.

"But that woman was getting in the way of our jobs!" said the Nostalgia Critic in an attempt of defending himself.

"Reading between the lines, I say that the young woman was giving you advice on how to conduct this mission. She tried to tell you to keep the match burning as a means of preventing the fire from spreading elsewhere, with the flame being restricted to the match only." said the Chief in a matter-of-fact manner.

"We don't need some advice from an everyday citizen. We are the Internet Police after all." countered the Angry Video Game Nerd.

"But if we refuse to listen to our fellow man or woman, we become just like our enemies: Cruel and heartless." injected the Chief. "We rejected her sound advice through self-preservation and selfishness, meaning that we failed to understand the masses and gave our enemies the chance to destroy everything we hold most dear towards."

After a few moments of silence, the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd gave nods of approval towards the Chief's words.

"Good." said the Chief. "I have the opportunity to fire you, but in the spirit of forgiveness, I decided to have you do something else in repentance."

At the hospital, Aubrey's medical condition was improving dramatically as the nurses proclaimed Aubrey fit to leave first thing tomorrow morning. Aubrey was glad for her medical recovery, but felt that her psyche was damaged beyond from how she was abandoned and left to die by the two men she believed to be heroes. As she was drawing an image of a princess being rescued by a prince from a tall, stone tower, someone knocked on the door to her hospital room.

"Come in." said Aubrey as she continued to draw.

The door opened to reveal an African-American woman entering the room, carrying a case full of flowers.

"Hello, Aubrey. My name is the Chief, but you can me, the Chief." said the Chief. "I am the leader of a secret organization called the Internet Police, the defender of earth from the scum of the web. Don't be concerned, this entire room has been isolated from the rest of the world as the cameras have been disabled within these walls."

"Oh." said Aubrey in a bitter and disappointed tone. "I thought all of you would simply leave the ordinary masses to fend for themselves as you cowardly run away in fear of making a difference in the world."

"I think your concern would best be answered by the two members responsible for that act." said the Chief as she faced the door. "Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd, you may come in."

Aubrey saw the two men who left her for dead enter the room, each carrying a present in their hands. She eyed them with malevolence and hatred.

"I'm sorry for the pain we inflicted onto you, Aubrey." professed the Nostalgia Critic.

"Both of us apologize for our transgressions against you at the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum." stated the Angry Video Game Nerd.

"I don't accept both of your apologies. You abandoned me there in that room to fend for myself and die." countered Aubrey.

"We don't deny how inappropriate that act was," confessed the Nostalgia Critic, "but the Angry Video Game Nerd and I are only human, a species known for being incredibly flawed and careless. Just let that thought sink into you for just a few moments."

Aubrey looked at the solemn faces of the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd and contemplated their words of apology for a few minutes. After a short passage of time, Aubrey finally gathered the courage to state her opinion regarding the topic.

"I accept both of your apologies. I came to realize that you thought I would follow you out of the museum when instead I stayed back and performed an admittedly stupid act. In fact, I should have been clearer in giving you advice on how to subdue Disaster Girl." confessed Aubrey. "As a member of humanity, I believe that if we remain divided over disagreements and arguments, we would never solve any of society's problems. If we become united, then we are capable of accomplishing any insurmountable task."

"Well said, Aubrey." exclaimed the Chief. "How about you open your presents in front of you?"

Aubrey opened both of her presents. One of the presents contained an unusual electronic device, and the other revealed an I.D. card.

"Congratulations, Aubrey Aiese. You have become a member of the Internet Police, a top-secret organization dedicated to protecting humanity from the excesses of the internet." announced the Chief.

In the midst of applause from the Chief, the Nostalgia Critic, and the Angry Video Game Nerd, Aubrey was opening her mouth in astonishment, with her eyes darting from the three people clapping for her and towards the I.D. with her code-name emblazoned on it: HurricaneAubrey.

"I know you're feeling confused and dazed by this revelation," assured the Chief, "but come tomorrow, you'll have all the answers you need to know. When you leave the hospital first thing tomorrow, look for the DeLorean in the parking lot. You will be escorted straight to our headquarters. From there, you will know the rest of the details. Get some rest, gumshoe."

Aubrey watched as the Chief, the Nostalgia Critic, and the Angry Video Game Nerd left her hospital room. Just a few days ago, she thought that her life was hopeless as she had lost her job and was hospitalized. As Aubrey looked upon the strange looking device as well as her I.D. labeling her as HurricaneAubrey, she smiled as she wondered what tomorrow would bring to her now that she was on a new path towards a better and brighter future for herself.

**A/N: Post reviews about this story. Tell me of any other internet memes and phenomena the Internet Police can go after. **


	2. The Revelation, Part 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Nostalgia Critic, the Angry Video Game Nerd, or any of the other internet celebrities or memes mentioned in this story. **

The Internet Police: The Scum of the Web

The Revelation, Part 2

"I can't believe that I'm standing outside of the hospital, waiting to be picked up by top-secret government agents." HurricaneAubrey thought.

Aubrey Aiese, now known by her code-name HurricaneAubrey, was standing in the parking lot of the hospital, waiting for the arrival of the DeLorean as promised by the Chief of the secretive organization known as the Internet Police. In the span of just one day, HurricaneAubrey had emerged from the nadir of her entire life to becoming a phoenix rising from the ashes of her previous life and entering a new realm of existence. HurricaneAubrey now needed a mode of transportation to take her towards her rebirth. Wearing a black business suit, she was ready for her orientation at the Internet Police Complex. To her relief, she saw the DeLorean driving towards her, with the driver parking besides her in order for her to get into the car itself.

"Get in, new gumshoe," yawned the Nostalgia Critic. "You don't want to be late."

HurricaneAubrey gladly entered into the DeLorean, situating herself in the front passenger seat. Inside, she saw a number of contraptions that resembled the time-traveling machine in the Back to the Future movies. She saw the car equipped with what looks like a Flux Capacitor and Time Circuits.

"Don't bother thinking about going back in time with this DeLorean," said the Nostalgia Critic after seeing HurricaneAubrey staring at these peculiar items. "They're just my personal decorations and aren't operational at all. I wish we could travel forward and backward in time but the Internet Police haven't perfected time travel yet."

"Oh. I guess this DeLorean doesn't fly either." professed HurricaneAubrey in an apologetic tone.

"Oh this baby can fly," said the Nostalgia Critic in an unexcited tone, "Let me show you myself." The Nostalgia Critic pushed a couple of buttons, and the DeLorean started to levitate off the ground, not flying high as they were still in the parking garage. The Nostalgia Critic saw a look of amazement on HurricaneAubrey's face. "I want to fly this thing of beauty everywhere, but of course, the Chief dictates that this method of transportation should be used only in emergencies," stated the Nostalgia Critic nonchalantly.

HurricaneAubrey smiled as the Nostalgia Critic placed the DeLorean back onto the ground, with no one else in the parking lot being aware of the existence of any flying contraption. Ignoring HurricaneAubrey's reaction to this technological wonder, the Nostalgia Critic immediately drove the car out of the parking lot and into the streets of Chicago.

"How do people not notice a DeLorean driving by them? It seems to be a rather conspicuous car to be driving when you're part of a top-secret government organization," confessed HurricaneAubrey.

"You would be surprised by how people tend to ignore the more outlandish aspects of their environment. The DeLorean is such a geek icon that people would rather be ignorant of its appearance than to be a part of its peculiar appearance. This is why it's the perfect mode of transportation for me. It can be ignored with ease by many people," said the Nostalgia Critic in a monotone voice.

As the DeLorean continued to travel through Chicago, people alongside the road glimpsed towards the car, but just as the Nostalgia Critic predicted, they immediately ignored the vehicle and went about with their daily lives. HurricaneAubrey, on the other hand, knew she should confess something to the Nostalgia Critic.

"I am sorry that I was unable to save Abraham Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation. I have utterly failed in retrieving Lincoln's greatest legacy on this earth," said HurricaneAubrey apologetically.

HurricaneAubrey saw that the Nostalgia Critic was trying his best to ignore her presence in the DeLorean, with his answers towards her previous questions being more out of politeness than about respect. As HurricaneAubrey looked down at his clasped hands, the DeLorean arrived at an extremely tall office building. HurricaneAubrey stared at this ordinary building, which displayed its unassuming name "The Tower" on a sign in front of it. The Nostalgia Critic parked the DeLorean inside The Tower's parking lot, with the Nostalgia Critic and HurricaneAubrey entering the main lobby of The Tower.

"Let's go into the elevator and show you everything you need to know about this place," said the Nostalgia Critic as he led HurricaneAubrey towards the elevators.

The Nostalgia Critic and HurricaneAubrey headed into the elevator, which was occupied by several office workers. The Nostalgia Critic and HurricaneAubrey stood in the elevator as they ascended and descended up the tower, waiting for everyone inside to leave.

"Gosh I have such a boring job," said one office worker as he departed off the elevator, "here's my floor. I'm off to my tedious and low-paying job."

As this last office worker left for his mundane job in the cubicle, the Nostalgia Critic inserted his gold-plated membership card into an electronic slot.

"The Nostalgia Critic, member of the Internet Police. I am here to escort HurricaneAubrey to her new job," stated the Nostalgia Critic into the elevator's speakers.

The elevator was now being lighted with red and blue light.

"Scanners to detect if we are the right individual," said the Nostalgia Critic, "it scans our eyes, our hair, our faces, etc."

"Access confirmed," said the female voice, "Welcome back, Nostalgia Critic. You will be sent to the main Hub of the Internet Police with your new employee. Have a nice day."

The elevator descended downward to a floor at the lower levels of the skyscraper, and upon reaching this floor, the Nostalgia Critic and HurricaneAubrey exited the elevator. They entered into what she thought was the Hub of the Internet Police: A cavernous, modernist room in white. The center of the Hub was occupied by glass sculptures and black and white sofas, with several agents sitting on them discussing topics like work and family. The walls of the Hub contained large television screens displaying the latest internet memes to new technological breakthroughs. HurricaneAubrey saw that all of the world's flags encircled the perimeter of the Hub, perhaps suggesting that the Internet Police was a diversified agency. HurricaneAubrey was at the center of the Hub, with the floor directly beneath her emblazoned with a map of the world. HurricaneAubrey saw the Nostalgia Critic moving towards the glass elevators positioned at the far ends of the Hub itself. Following her into the elevator, HurricaneAubrey saw the Nostalgia Critic push a button labeled Orientation Room. The elevator moved a few floors up, and as the elevator moved up, HurricaneAubrey began to wonder how the Internet Police Complex could go unnoticed without anyone else knowing. Before she thought anymore about the issue, the elevator doors opened.

"Follow me," said the Nostalgia Critic as he led HurricaneAubrey into a room called the Orientation Room.

HurricaneAubrey found herself in a darkened room where she was unable to see directly in front of her.

"See you later," said the Nostalgia Critic as he closed the door behind her, leaving her in a room of total darkness.

HurricaneAubrey could have sworn she heard the words "Thank Goodness" coming from outside the room. Looking puzzled, HurricaneAubrey started pacing the room, only to bump into a glass wall.

"Ouch," she cried. "What is this place?"

HurricaneAubrey felt around the room, finding out that the room was in fact rather small, perhaps small enough to be some sort of an elevator (maybe even the same type she just had departed from).

"Don't worry," she thought to herself, "someone will take me out of this waiting room and give me a decent tour of the place."

HurricaneAubrey sat herself down onto the floor of this peculiar room and anticipated someone coming to orient her around the facility. Seconds went by, minutes went by. At about 30 minutes after being locked in, HurricaneAubrey began to doubt whether anyone would come at all. Suddenly, a voice ranged out from the darkness.

"Good morning, new recruit," said the male announcer in a computerized manner, "The lights will be turned on right now."

The lights turned on so suddenly that HurricaneAubrey became temporarily blinded. When she regained her sight, she saw that she was indeed inside a glass elevator, which was enclosed by white walls on all of its sides.

"You will hear a buzzer. When you hear the buzzer, look up at the ceiling," said the male announcer.

A buzzer rang out, and feeling that the orientation was now starting, HurricaneAubrey directed her attention towards the ceiling of the glass elevator.

"Good." Replied the male announcer, "You will hear a buzzer. When you hear the buzzer, look down at the floor."

The buzzer rang out again, and following along with the announcer's instructions, HurricaneAubrey looked down at the floor of the glass elevator. Shifting her eyes upward, HurricaneAubrey saw a painting just outside the glass elevator, which looked remarkable like John Constable's _The Hay Wain_.

"Good. You are now physically rejuvenated. There is a framed painting on the wall. Please go stand in front of it," remarked the male announcer.

HurricaneAubrey placed herself closer to the framed painting just outside the glass elevator.

"This is art. You will hear a buzzer. When you hear the buzzer, stare at the art," said the male announcer.

The buzzer blared in HurricaneAubrey's ears, signaling her to gaze upon _The Hay Wain_. As she gazed upon the painting, she thought of how it represented an agricultural Britain before the Industrial Revolution took hold upon the country, an interpretation she thought of herself. Staring at the painting, HurricaneAubrey was reminded on why she loved paintings and portraits: they represented the different aspects of reality based upon the unique viewpoints of both the artist and the observer. For HurricaneAubrey, she could depict reality according to her own standards or view a painting by her own terms, with both characteristics of paintings being the ultimate degree of freedom.

"You should now feel mentally reinvigorated. If you suspect staring at art has not provided the required intellectual sustenance, reflect briefly on this classic music," emphasized the male announcer.

HurricaneAubrey listened as Canon in D by Pachelbel filled her ears with delight. For the first time all day, she felt completely alone in paradise, albeit one confined to a glass elevator.

"Music," HurricaneAubrey thought, "the essence of the human soul. The bringer of peace and tranquility in a chaotic and unpredictable world. The gift of …. ahhhh!"

The buzzer interrupted Canon in D, abruptly ending HurricaneAubrey's moment of peace. Feeling angry, HurricaneAubrey had the urge to yell at the male announcer but thought better of it.

"Good." said the male announcer, "The lights will be turned back off."

To her annoyance, HurricaneAubrey saw the lights went out immediately, leaving her in pitch darkness once again. After a few minutes of standing in black nothingness, she started to pace back and forth within the glass elevator, contemplating whether this whole orientation program was a practical joke.

"Hello? Anyone in there?" said an English-accented voice in the darkness. "Helloooo?"

"Hello. Who's there?" cried out HurricaneAubrey.

"I'm going to try turn on the lights," answered the voice. "I'm going to turn them back on in 3, 2, 1.. Ahhh!"

HurricaneAubrey saw that a small flashlight was being emitted from the English-accented man in the darkness.

"Sorry about that. I'm always afraid of turning on this flashlight. I should know better by now that they tricked me into believing that I would die if I turned on this flashlight. Why would they give me all of these accessories if I'm not meant to use them?" said the British man in the shadow. "Ah never mind. I'll just turn on the lights in 3, 2, 1."

The room was again flooded with bright lights. To HurricaneAubrey's amazement, the voice came not from a man but from a mechanical eyeball hanging from a rail in front of the glass elevator.

"'Let there be light'. That's, uh… God. I was quoting God."

"Who are you?" asked HurricaneAubrey as she pressed her face against the glass elevator. She was astounded as how comfortable she was to talking to a metal eyeball. Then again, her encounters with a talking prairie dog, a girl who was the destroyer of worlds, and a top-secret organization headquartered within an ordinary office building seemed to have made her jaded towards the other peculiarities of the Internet Police.

"I am Wheatley. I am here to introduce you to the inter-workings of the Internet Police," said the mechanical eyeball as he shifted left and right on his attached rail. "Most new recruits tend to have emotions that ranged from fear to outright panic when they see me. I'm rather impressed by your calm handling to my presence. Perhaps there is more to you than meets the eye."

"I rather surprised myself," HurricaneAubrey replied in response to the thing known as Wheatley.

"Say apple," said Wheatley.

"What?" asked the puzzled HurricaneAubrey.

"Go on say apple," asked Wheatley again.

"Uh, apple," said HurricaneAubrey. She clearly had no idea why she would be asked to say apple to a mechanical eyeball.

"Good. See that wasn't so hard," said Wheatley in a matter-in-fact tone. "Well actually, almost half of the new recruits tend to say only a derivative of the word apple. I never figure out why humans can be so stubborn sometimes. Anyway. The orientation tour is about to start. So just relax and enjoy the ride. Remember, there will be cake at the end of this orientation tour."

The glass elevator started to quickly descend, with HurricaneAubrey seeing Wheatley moving down with her on his Management Rail.

"Now you must be asking 'why did you just undergo those tests earlier in this orientation program'?" said Wheatley as he continued his descent with HurricaneAubrey. "To prepare for the unpredictable. If you should get anything from this orientation, you should always remember this: Prepare for the unpredictable."

Suddenly, the glass elevator moved right, knocking HurricaneAubrey off her feet.

"Like I say, prepare for the unpredictable," said Wheatley as he followed HurricaneAubrey to the right.

The glass elevator started to move left, knocking HurricaneAubrey off her feet. Then, the glass elevator started to move up, then down. Finally, the glass elevator propelled itself forward to a solid wall. HurricaneAubrey opened her mouth to scream, but before she could, the glass elevator came to complete halt.

"Prepare for the unpredictable, HurricaneAubrey," said Wheatley as he stared at HurricaneAubrey, who was trying to feel her heart rate. "Based on your heart rate, I would say that you are indeed taking these tests way better than many of our previous candidates. You know, you remind me of someone I knew long ago."

HurricaneAubrey saw that Wheatley was squinting his eye, and if she was not mistaken, would have thought that he was crying if he was a human being.

"She was a marvelous woman. I met her when she was in the position as you and many of the Internet Police's previous recruits: confused yet determined. She was a woman who was calm in the face of danger, a woman who I followed to into the depths of the Company until… until. Oh never mind about that. Let's start the real tour right now."

HurricaneAubrey thought to question Wheatley more about this mysterious woman and the Company he mentioned, but decided to not to push the matter out of respect.

"Now here we are at the docking station," said Wheatley, indicating the blank wall in front of him. He shifted his attention back to the blank wall. "Wait. On second thought, that is not a docking station. The docking station is further down, diagonally to the right. I'll lead you there right away."

The glass elevator moved down, diagonally to the right as Wheatley commanded it to. At last, they reached a wall specifically labeled Docking Station.

"Ah here we are. Now we are about to go down shall we say the rabbit hole. I guess that would make you Alice, I myself am the white rabbit. As the story goes, follow the white rabbit."

HurricaneAubrey saw the Docking Station wall open up to reveal an enormous cavern of a building filled with many similar glass elevators, going up, down, left, right, and any other directions you could think of. Wheatley brought HurricaneAubrey's glass elevator into this massive room, dodging many of the other glass elevators along the way. On the walls of this monumental room were huge banners of the great innovators of the computing age: Charles Babbage, Ada Lovelace, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, and countless other individuals. Directly above these banners was the blue sky with white clouds permeated sparsely throughout it.

"This is the Terminal. The place where all of the glass elevators go to when their occupants want to travel to the other buildings of the Internet Police Complex," said Wheatley as he followed HurricaneAubrey's glass elevator.

"You mean the Internet Police isn't just confined to just one building!" exclaimed HurricaneAubrey.

"Yes. The Internet Police Complex is spread over several skyscrapers throughout the Chicago area, hidden in plain sight from the general public. I mean, what better place to hide a secret organization than in ordinary office buildings that the muggles work at every single day," said Wheatley. "I think that's a brilliant idea don't you think?"

"I guess so," said HurricaneAubrey, "who would suspect a normal office building to be the hiding spot for the Internet Police."

"My point exactly," said Wheatley. "Now let me show you the major parts of the Internet Police."

HurricaneAubrey was prepared this time for the glass elevator to jerk in any direction, and when the glass elevator started to move backwards, she remained standing, already aware of what to do. The glass elevator back at the same modernist room she was just at when she first arrived to the Internet Police Complex, but instead of being on the ground floor, the glass elevator that she was in directly above a suspended podium where an important person (perhaps the Chief) would speak from.

"So this is the Hub: the open forum to conduct business, look up on the latest news, the meeting place for grand ceremonies, and the central area for incoming agents. The agents coming in by car or by foot arrive by way of the public lobby's elevators, which we happened to take. The agents traveling by subway are transported on special red cars, which will transport them directly beneath The Tower by way of a secret track, and of course, these agents undergo the same security procedures as experienced inside the public lobby's elevators," stated Wheatley in a brisk pace.

"I have a question," said HurricaneAubrey in an astounded tone, "can the agents also enter the Internet Police Complex from the other buildings?"

"No. They can only enter by way of the Tower entrance, meaning that every single agent enter by way of the Tower and its Hub. It's a security precaution," assured Wheatley, "Any other questions?"

"I have another question," asked HurricaneAubrey, "what do you exactly do here?"

"You can refer to me as the administrative assistance to the complex computer systems here at the Internet Police Complex," said Wheatley, "I monitor if there are any problems the computer system. But I'm more than just a computer administrator. I also give tours of the facility like I am doing right now. I also have the job of being a therapist for all of the smelly humans."

At that point, Wheatley gave a nervous chuckle as he tried to clear his voice.

"Sorry. Old habits just die hard. I just can't get over my past life. Anyway. I think it's off to one of the various offices of the Internet Police," said Wheatley. "Further down the rabbit hole we go."

The glass elevator moved out of the Hub and back into the Terminal. Once again, HurricaneAubrey saw a plethora of glass elevators moving in all kinds of directions to their final destinations. Eventually, they reached a two-story office space where the floor was made of glass and the sun was radiating into it. From her vantage point from a longitudinal wall embedded into the wall, the workers were typing vigorously on their computers, with their desks filled with many of their prized possessions that ranged from pictures of their families to paperwork.

"Ah the sun!" remarked Wheatley. "I never get tired of seeing the sun rise, permeating its warmth over the entire earth. So here it is, one example of many offices found throughout the Internet Police Complex. Now that you are acquainted with your basic workplace, we will now proceed to the Internet Police Enrichment Center."

As they proceed back into the Terminal, HurricaneAubrey thought about how the Nostalgia Critic, though apologizing to her in the hospital, still felt uneasy around her. She decided to tell Wheatley about this fact at some point during the orientation tour. Just then, the glass elevator arrived at the Internet Police Enrichment Center.

"Here we are. Home sweet home to all of the Internet Police's research and development team," proclaimed Wheatley.

"What exactly is the purpose of this room?" inquired HurricaneAubrey as the glass elevator moved sideways in view of men and women in white lab coats.

"Testing out new technologies for the Internet Police," exclaimed Wheatley. "This happened to be my favorite room in the whole complex. This is where all of the testing takes place in the entire facility. Look! There's the Angry Video Game Nerd testing out his NES Accessory Battle Suit or at least part of it."

Wheatley indicated where the Angry Video Game Nerd, the man whom HurricaneAubrey saw with the Nostalgia Critic at the warehouse, was. He appeared to be wearing what looked like to be a Konami LaserScope on his head, with the Nerd himself holding what appeared to be a Super Scope gun.

"Let's set this gun to low intensity," said the Angry Video Game Nerd as robots were moving wrecked cars in front of him. The robots appeared to have binocular eyes, two arms ending in brick-like hands, a cylinder-like midsection, and a large base where the robots themselves appear to be levitating off the ground. The robots immediately began to clear out of the way as the Angry Video Game Nerd took aim at the car directly in front of him.

"The robots you see are Robotic Operation Buddies or R.O.B.s. They were constructed to assist the Enrichment Center inventors on experimenting new technologies for the Internet Police," whispered Wheatley.

"Ready," whispered the Angry Video Game Nerd as his finger moved towards the trigger. "Aim, Fire!"

The laser projectile fired from the Super Scope gun, but instead of going directly to the wrecked car, it ricocheted off the walls and hitting a group of R.O.B.s instead, shattering them into a pile of mechanical debris. The impact of the laser projectile also sent sound waves that shattered the glass barrier between HurricaneAubrey's glass elevator and the Enrichment Center.

"Wheatley was right," though HurricaneAubrey as she looked at the hole in the glass barrier made by the impact from the laser projectile, "Prepare for the unpredictable."

"Fuck!" shouted the Angry Video Game Nerd as he smashed the Super Scope gun onto the floor. "I much rather have a buffalo take a diarrhea dump in my ear than continue to tinker with this Super Scope gun. I much rather play with dog turds than continue this experiment."

HurricaneAubrey saw the Angry Video Game Nerd continue to swear profanities into the air as he made his way through the Enrichment Center, furiously ranting about how hard it was to come up with new inventions.

"Unfortunately," said Wheatley as he tried to talk over the Angry Video Game Nerd raging voice, "the research and development process is fraught with complications and failure. It's only natural to get frustrated at your failures and be angry at the world. Like Thomas Edison said, 'genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration.' Shall we go onward?"

"Wait right there!" said an unfamiliar voice. HurricaneAubrey saw that the voice came from one of the R.O.B.s, who was now gliding towards them. Looking right through the glass hole, this gray R.O.B. robot was staring directly into Wheatley's only eye.

"Why can't you deal with the crap we have to deal with every single day, Wheatley?!" said the gray R.O.B. robot in a gravelly, electronic voice. "I have to deal with a foul-mouthed human who treats us like shit."

"Remember what I told you R.O.B., my duty is to monitor the Complex's computer systems and be the therapist," said Wheatley, "I don't have the proper body to assist the Angry Video Game Nerd."

"Isn't that a bit racist," said the gray R.O.B. robot angrily, "Saying that you have a more superior body than the R.O.B. robots."

"Well sorry for the hate crime!" countered Wheatley sarcastically, "Why not talk to the Angry Video Game Nerd about your problems?"

"Because he doesn't appreciate my full potential outside of being a lab rat," stated the gray R.O.B. robot, "And call me J.R., Wheatley."

"Listen J.R., I don't have time to talk about your dilemma. I am sorry for your dilemma, but I have to lead this young lady through a tour of the facility. Good day to you, sir," said Wheatley.

As Wheatley led the glass elevator away from the Enrichment Center, J.R. the robot continued to shout at Wheatley.

"Don't be such a fucking moron Wheatley," said J.R. the robot.

J.R. the robot must have said something offensive to Wheatley, for the mechanical eyeball was fuming back at J.R.

"I AM NOT A MORON!" yelled Wheatley.

"Prepare for the unpredictable," thought HurricaneAubrey. That statement seemed to have been proven for the entire day, most recently with an argument erupting between two sentient robots.

"I never really liked those R.O.B. robots," confessed Wheatley. "Always complaining about their working conditions and thinking I live a pampered life. I always try to ignore them. On a brighter note, let us continue on the tour."

"I've been thinking," admitted HurricaneAubrey, "How do your arrested subjects arrive at the Internet Police Complex?"

"Good question, HurricaneAubrey. The prisoners arrive by way of armored subway trains. After an arrest, the Internet Police's cars are loaded onto a heavily-protected subway car to the Internet Police Complex. The subway car will descend further downward into a fortified room. The escorted prisoner will be transported onto an elevator leading directly to the Asylum, where they will be reformed into proper citizens on the internet and in real life," answered Wheatley.

HurricaneAubrey realized that she and Wheatley were back into the Terminal, with the blue sky still shining directly above the glass elevators moving within the Terminal itself.

"By the way," added Wheatley, "the blue sky you see above you is merely an illusion. Since we are inside a skyscraper, the architects decided to add a blue sky to create a calm atmosphere for the Terminal. So it was decided to have a series of computer monitors to replicate the real-life sky within a controlled environment, with the sky being clear or cloudy based on the mood of the day. Right now, it appears to be a perfectly normal day as there are few clouds in the artificial sky right now."

The glass elevator began to move directly downward into the ground. HurricaneAubrey thought that the glass elevator would soon move in a horizontal or diagonal direction, but to her surprise, the elevator continued to move down and down, perhaps for miles to her understanding. The elevator shaft appeared to be grimy, with the only lighting coming from Wheatley's flashlight.

"As we descend into the Asylum, let me fill you on the history behind how the Asylum came into being," said Wheatley as he followed the glass elevator on its downward journey. "The Asylum was first constructed as a fallout shelter during the height of the Cold War. Constructed miles underground, this fallout shelter was designed to withstand a direct hit from a nuclear bomb. Humans have always been interesting and perplexing. They have the power to be virtuous and improve the world or invoke destruction upon it by violence. Maybe there are more similarities between my fellow robots and your fellow human peers, HurricaneAubrey."

As Wheatley paused to think, HurricaneAubrey saw that the glass elevator was finally moving in a horizontal direction forward, with the dim lighting from the Asylum becoming brighter and brighter.

"After the end of the Cold War," continued Wheatley, "the fallout shelter was decommissioned and eventually passed into the possession of the Internet Police, of which they converted it into an insane asylum for internet phenomena that are a clear and present danger to the community. And I believe that we are here at last."

The glass elevator entered the low-lighting Asylum, which HurricaneAubrey saw was a mixture of concrete and red brick walls. Directly below here were several glass-containment areas holding various internet subjects. HurricaneAubrey felt uncomfortable staring at these patients, with many of them ranging from slightly devolved to Joker-level insanity.

"Let me go over this one more time. You are not Japanese. You are an American," said the Nostalgia Critic to a strange-looking white girl on the opposite side of the table.

"I am a Japanese Princess Vampire" said the strange-looking white girl.

"Yes you are, Miss MagicalPockyUsagi," said the Nostalgia Critic sarcastically. "But I must repeat myself. You are in fact a Weeaboo!"

As HurricaneAubrey continued to watch this spectacle of a girl who was whiter than sour cream present herself as being Japanese, Wheatley shook in disbelief.

"So that's why MagicalPockyUsagi has been off of YouTube for many years," exclaimed HurricaneAubrey as she continued to see MagicalPockyUsagi shout back at the Nostalgia Critic.

"Are you aware of what a Weeaboo is, HurricaneAubrey?" interjected Wheatley.

"Unfortunately, yes," said HurricaneAubrey. "Weeaboos are people who present themselves as being 100% Japanese even though they are obviously of a different race."

"That's right," professed Wheatley, "they see Japanese culture in a highly idealized and unrealistic manner. They are blinded from the fact that they are presenting themselves as being superior over the rest of their non-Japanese companions, a form of elitism that I now loath and reject."

"I'm telling you that I'm Japanese," shouted MagicalPockyUsagi at the Nostalgia Critic, "You're just jealous because you don't own several houses in America and Japan."

MagicalPockyUsagi then stared up at both Wheatley and HurricaneAubrey, and when she saw then, she made the victory sign with both of her hands. HurricaneAubrey saw that Wheatley was incredibly frightened of this girl.

"What have I told you?" said the Nostalgia Critic in an annoyed voice, "Never fucking do that again!"

"But I'm Japanese. Everyone likes me because I'm not one of Japanese wannabes who pretend to be Japanese. Anyone who isn't Japanese doesn't deserve to live.

"Well I'm fucking looking at one of them," said the Nostalgia Critic in a high-pitched voice, "can't you get that in your American head?"

"Well I'm a Japanese girl trapped inside this American body," said MagicalPockyUsagi.

"Oh for fuck sake!" said the Nostalgia Critic as he began typing relentlessly on his Global Electronic Database. After a few minutes, the door to the glass-containment area was opened, with a cat holding a cheeseburger entering it.

"You wanted a cheeseburger, Mr. Critic," spoke the gray cat.

"Thank you, Mr. Cat," said the Nostalgia Critic as he took the cheeseburger from the talking cat and waved it in front of MagicalPockyUsagi. "This is a cheeseburger. Americans eat it. Now eat it, you American girl."

"Bleh," protested MagicalPockyUsagi, "I'm a Japanese Vampire Princess. I want real Japanese food like sushi and pho."

"Pho's Vietnamese, not Japanese," said the Nostalgia Critic as he face-palmed.

"I think that's enough time in the Asylum for today," said Wheatley as he led the glass elevator away from MagicalPockyUsagi. "I hate being down here. The people we have trapped down here are the trolls of the internet. As the innocent users of the internet kingdom are working and entertaining themselves, these trolls lurk in the shadows ready to snatch any innocents that come by their turf. Some of these innocents are looking for trouble, while others just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, they are consumed by the darkness of these cretins, with their screams echoing through the web pages of the internet. Here in the Asylum, you can still hear the bloodthirsty snarls of these monsters if you listen closely."

HurricaneAubrey saw the inhabitants of the Asylum down below her. Some of them appeared to be perfectly normal and contradict Wheatley's chilling description, such as the Dramatic Chipmunk she saw earlier. Others fit Wheatley's statement exactly, and though she couldn't identify many of them, they stared up at her with a seemingly savage pleasure of ripping her apart in many pieces.

"Let's go to happier places on our tour," said Wheatley.

"Agreed," said HurricaneAubrey as she breathed heavily.

The glass elevator made its long way back to the Terminal, and once there, the glass elevator headed into a direction in which HurricaneAubrey was unable to predict.

"I would like to ask you a question. Do you like British food?" asked Wheatley.

"Not really," admitted HurricaneAubrey. "I prefer Italian food. I myself am of Italian descent."

"Well maybe I'll change your mind on the matter," insisted Wheatley.

The glass elevator arrived in what looked like to be a private dining area, which had a window to what looked like the dining room to the Oxford dining room, comprised of wood and stone building materials. The occupants were eating their lunch on finely polished wooden tables in the midst of the paintings chronicling the technological progress of humanity: from the invention of fire to the creation of the internet.

"Incredible, isn't it," remarked Wheatley as he looked around the kitchen within the private dining area. "This area is normally reserved for all the new recruits for the Internet Police during their orientation tour. Let me get a seat for you."

Just as Wheatley mentioned getting her a seat, a jumble of robotic arms sprang out from the floor and pulled a seat from the table. Unable to speak, HurricaneAubrey took her seat, and just as she took her seat, the robotic arms pushed her towards the table.

"Good," said Wheatley. "Now that you are seated properly, I'll make you some of the finest British food to change your negative perceptions towards them."

HurricaneAubrey saw Wheatley busy in the kitchen as he manipulated the many robotic arms to perform several culinary tasks. To HurricaneAubrey's observation, there were knifes cutting this and that, the stove being turned on from cold to hot, the oven being turned on and off, and everything else was a blurry of images of Wheatley's robotic arms preparing the perfect meal.

"Done," exclaimed Wheatley as he pulls out what looked like a shepherd's pie.

"Go ahead and taste it," requested Wheatley.

HurricaneAubrey took a bite out of the shepherd's pie.

"This is simply sublime!" said HurricaneAubrey as she took another bite to eat.

"Thank you very much!" replied Wheatley, "Remember, add a little diversity in your life and expand outside of your comfort zone. It would rather tedious if you only stick to the status quo and not be more adventurous in your life."

"I wanted to ask you something," said HurricaneAubrey as she continued to eat her shepherd's pie, "The Nostalgia Critic seemed remote towards my presence as he was driving me to the Internet Police Complex. Can you please tell me why?"

HurricaneAubrey saw Wheatley trying to rack his brains on this question. After a few minutes of silence, Wheatley spoke to answer her question.

"I believe that the Nostalgia Critic believes that you are the embodiment of the reckless youth that infect the internet as a whole," said Wheatley, "From what I can gather, the members of the Internet Police are comprised mostly of people above the age of thirty, and for the most part, they look down on the young people who are more interested in causing havoc and anarchy on the internet and elsewhere. For the Nostalgia Critic, you are no different from all those juveniles that don't appreciate the works he liked in his youth or the other classical works of the past."

"But I'm different from those of my generation," protested HurricaneAubrey, "I like the works of the past, both classical and pop cultural."

"I can see that you're a well-rounded girl," said Wheatley as he moved on his Management Rail to the window opening onto the Dining Hall, "But in today's day and age, the gap between adults and children has widen dramatically, with many adults now seeing children as being a nuisance to society. It would explain why many of the Internet Police's agents are more than eager to monitor the internet: to regulate and crack down on the youth's misdeeds and barbaric behavior. According to most Internet Police agents, you are no different from the rest of the youth."

"But I can prove myself to the Nostalgia Critic that I am a civilized woman who takes responsibility for her own actions and admire the works of the past," insisted HurricaneAubrey.

"I'm sure you can," said Wheatley, "But it will be difficult to prove to your fellow agents that you are not simply a part of that wretched group of adolescents. However, I'll be here whenever if you need my advice."

Wheatley saw that HurricaneAubrey finished her meal, and after using the robotic arms to clean the table and plates, Wheatley indicated to her that the tour would start again and requested that she returned to her glass elevator. Once again, the glass elevator travelled to another location in the Internet Police Complex, to where HurricaneAubrey didn't know.

"As I told you earlier, there will be cake at the end of this orientation tour," reminded Wheatley.

The glass elevator emerged into what looked like a Greco-Roman temple, which was decorated with classical statues and Neoclassical paintings. In this Greco-Roman temple, HurricaneAubrey saw people practicing shooting targets and running on the treadmill.

"As you can see, this is the Gymnasium for the Internet Police agents. If you want to brush up on your skills as an agent, you come here for all of your needs," explained Wheatley as the glass elevator started to move out from the Gymnasium, "We are now reaching the end of our tour. As a part of the Internet Police's orientation program, the new recruits are allowed to choose the room of their choice. So which room would you like to go to?"

At Wheatley's words, HurricaneAubrey scanned for the elevator's buttons, and after looking at all four sides of the glass elevator, she realized that the buttons were in the least expected place she would have thought of: they covered literally every single space in the glass elevator. Her eyes shifted in almost infinite directions, racking her brains to figure out where she wanted to go. Some of the available room included the Vehicle Testing Area, the Owlery, the Jelly Room, the Atmospheric Chocolate Room, the Internet Archive, the Engine Room, and the Restricted Section. At last, she found a room that would be most interesting to her: The PBS Room

"Ah. Good choice if I do say so myself," said Wheatley as HurricaneAubrey pushed the button to The PBS Room, "And off we go."

The glass elevator made its way to The PBS Room, and when the doors opened, HurricaneAubrey was greeted with a miniature museum documenting how much of an impact PBS had on the public, ranging from educating them to teaching them valuable life lessons. The exhibits consisted of cardboards displaying the history of PBS to the influence PBS had on American society. The glue sticks and crayons used to create the cardboard exhibits were scattered on the floor. Though admittedly amateurish, HurricaneAubrey thought the PBS Room had a certain amount of charm to its simplicity.

"This is The PBS Room," said Wheatley. "It is here where our agents voluntarily add their own bit of information regarding PBS, one of the greatest networks on television and forefront in educating America."

"Have you seen cardboard exhibits before, Wheatley?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"Oh yes," replied Wheatley. "And thankfully, these exhibits were made by professional adults, of who suffered no ill consequences in their creation of the PBS Room. Anyway, are you familiar with the Public Broadcasting Service channel?"

"Oh most definitely," answered HurricaneAubrey. "I have been watching PBS since I was a little girl, watching such shows like Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood to become more learned about the alphabet and other aspects of life. Though I am a bit busy in my adult life, I still try to follow PBS from time to time, with myself being a particular fan of the Masterpiece series and NOVA."

"NOVA," repeated Wheatley. "One of my most favorite shows. It has allowed me to view space, from an appropriate and safe distance of course. I am particularly fascinated when NOVA does physics related topics like string theory and Einstein's theories of relativity. I may not be the smartest machine but I am the most eager to learn and expand my mind, kind of like yourself."

"Exactly," said HurricaneAubrey softly as she stared at Wheatley in his only eye.

"So why did you pick this room?" asked Wheatley.

"I guess I wanted to know why PBS was present in the Internet Police Complex," answered HurricaneAubrey, "but I think I already know the answer to that: It's because PBS is the epitome of a network that can both entertain and educate its audience. And with the internet descending further and further into stupidity and anarchy, PBS is a safe haven for anyone wishing to learn and improve the world with knowledge and culture."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," added Wheatley. "You pretty summed up the goal of the Internet Police: To rid the internet of the barbarians that wish to bring about destruction on humanity's body and mind both online and in real life. The golden standard of PBS is shared by all agents of the Internet Police to be remembered and carried out, and this room can be considered the shrine to civilization and intelligence."

The sun was now setting, which bathed the room in a palette of orange and purple. Around her, HurricaneAubrey could see the photographs of the people that had impacted the way PBS was formed and indirectly affected the philosophy of the Internet Police. From Mr. Rogers to Carl Sagan, HurricaneAubrey felt their likeness staring from their respective pictures added to the sacred nature of the PBS Room as a refuge from the confusion and turmoil of the internet that was present in the Asylum.

"Are you ready to leave?" asked Wheatley.

"Yes I am," answered HurricaneAubrey.

As the glass elevator moved once more, HurricaneAubrey remembered that there was cake at the end of the orientation, and feeling hungry, she decided she wanted some. After all, Wheatley wouldn't just lie to her.

"I think the tour will end just about here," commented Wheatley as the glass elevator reached a bronzed door. "Are you ready for some cake?"

"Yes, please," said HurricaneAubrey enthusiastically.

The bronze doors opened to let the glass elevator into the darkened room.

"Where's the cake?" said HurricaneAubrey.

"The cake will be here in 3.2.1…." said Wheatley

At one, the lights came on, which revealed not cake but…. Rick Astley's Never Gonna Give You Up being played on a humungous television screen.

"Oh come on!" said HurricaneAubrey with some bitterness in her voice as she saw Rick Astley dancing to the musical beat that many on the internet came to know far too often.

"This is the Rickroll Room," said Wheatley as he was giggling, "This is where the Internet Police's motto 'Prepare for the Unpredictable' is engrained into all new recruits."

HurricaneAubrey saw Wheatley singing and dancing along with Rick Astley.

"We're no strangers to love  
You know the rules and so do I  
A full commitment's what I'm thinking of  
You wouldn't get this from any other guy  
I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling  
Gotta make you understand"

As HurricaneAubrey continued to watch Wheatley and Rick Astley perform Never Gonna Give You Up, she got over the initial disappointment and began singing and dancing within the elevator. It was apparent that the glass elevator was moving to HurricaneAubrey's dancing for it also was moving up, down, and any other direction to fit with the music.

"Never gonna give you up,  
Never gonna let you down  
Never gonna run around and desert you  
Never gonna make you cry,  
Never gonna say goodbye  
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you"

HurricaneAubrey was leaning along the side of the glass elevator as she was singing simultaneously with Wheatley, who now felt that Wheatley was a friend like no other. She thought that her entire experience in the Internet Police Complex taught her that the internet was both a terrifying and exciting place, with either traits being present if you looked in the right places. After a few minutes in the Rickroll room, the glass elevator returned to its starting point in the Orientation Room. HurricaneAubrey saw the glass elevator slide itself into its original position, with the glass doors opening to the Orientation Room's doors.

"Well that's that," said Wheatley as the doors to the Orientation Room opened automatically.

"Thank you so much for giving me a comprehensive tour of the Internet Police Complex. I never knew how fascinating the internet," said HurricaneAubrey as she walked out of the glass elevator, "I hope we can meet again soon."

"I concur," said Wheatley as the doors to the Orientation Room began to close, "Well goodbye."

And with the Orientation Room's doors closing, HurricaneAubrey lost sight of Wheatley, who seemed to be the thing that most understood her at the Complex.

After a long day, HurricaneAubrey returned to her apartment (returning home by way of the red subways), which was mostly empty as she had only recently rented it. After getting ready for bed, she stared out the window to the Chicago skyline at night. She thought about how ignorant she was of the internet before being present in the Internet Police Complex. Though she had some experience with being a minor internet celebrity, she soon realized that she had just scratched the surface to the intricacies of the World Wide Web. Getting into her sleeping bag, HurricaneAubrey wondered how she was going to convince many of the agents that she was not some insensitive youth that was part of the lowest-common denominator, as evident by her positive reaction in the PBS Room. She wondered how was she was going to present herself as part of the Internet Police and not as some immature outsider that the Nostalgia Critic thought of. On a more positive note, she was thankful for the opportunity to be introduced to the Complex by a helpful and compassionate machine called Wheatley, but she couldn't help but wonder about his life before being a part of the Internet Police?

"Maybe I'll ask him in due course," said HurricaneAubrey as she shifted in her sleeping bag.

Through a few days of training, she could transform herself from a naive girl to a full-fledged agent of an organization dedicated to ridding the internet of the pathogens that infect its living systems. As she drifted to sleep, she thought of those four words: Prepare for the unpredictable.

**A/N: When writing this story, I try to include series that are widely referenced throughout the internet. For example, the Portal series is referenced due to the fact that Portal is popular throughout the internet, as confirmed by the Know Your Meme website. Anyway, please review my story as a way of providing me with some input regarding it. What other YouTube celebrities, internet memes, or any other series widely mentioned on the internet should be included in this story? What new threats should the Internet Police confront?  
**


	3. Magibon

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the internet celebrities or memes mentioned in this story. **

The Internet Police: The Scum of the Web

Magibon

Marty McFly was running through Hill Valley. He needed to get back to 1985 before it was too late. Doc Brown was counting on him from the future. With so much on the line, he felt that he wasn't running fast enough. He could use a skateboard right about now. Suddenly, a skateboard appeared out of nowhere, and feeling relieved, he jumped onto the skateboard and propelled himself forward towards his intended destination: Lou's Café. Why he needed to go there he did not know. As he rode on his skateboard, he saw several clocks on the ground and had a strange urge to collect them.

"What does this have to do with saving Doc Brown?" exclaimed Marty.

Marty continued to collect clocks for no apparent reason as he skated to Lou's Café. Out of a clear sky, gigantic bees came buzzing towards him.

"Holy shit!" screamed Marty as he dodged the gigantic killer bees flying around him. "What is this: Hill Valley or Hell?"

His skateboard disappeared below him, and as Marty ran with his perpetually moving feet, he found himself amidst an army of hula hoop girls trying to kill him.

"Why do they want to kill me? Is it because I'm an asshole?" exclaimed Marty.

Marty saw a bowling ball appear on the ground, and without warning, he picked it up and threw it at every single hula hoop girl he could find.

"What the hell does this have to do with the movie?" said Marty as he continued throwing an infinite number of bowling balls at the hula hoop girls. "And why am I wearing a sleeveless black shirt and a black helmet?"

As Marty began to think why he was not wearing his trademark clothing (and why there were guys carrying windows in front of him), he saw a bench in front of him. Seeing no other alternative, he decided to jump over it. He jumped… and he falls.

"What the fuck?!" yelled Marty as he thrashed on the ground after failing to get over the bench. "Why does it look like I'm having a seizure?"

"What are you doing Marty McFly?" yelled a voice from somewhere else.

"I just can't get over this fucking bench," said an exasperated Marty.

The sun rose on the Chicago suburbs. The birds were singing, the squirrels were playing in the yard, the children were waving goodbye to their parents on their way to school, and the Angry Video Game Nerd was playing the Back to the Future game on the Nintendo Entertainment System.

"I'd rather eat out the rotten asshole of a road killed skunk than play this fucking piece of shit," said the Angry Video Game Nerd as he drank from a bottle of Rolling Rock beer.

"If you hate the Back to the Future game so much, why are you still playing it?" said the Nostalgia Critic as he was holding a cup of coffee and standing behind the couch where the Angry Video Game Nerd was seated at.

"Because by playing shitty games, I can unleash my rage to my full advantage as an Internet Police agent," said the Angry Video Game Nerd as he popped the Back to the Future game out of the Nintendo game system.

"Do you really need all of these shitty games filling up the space of my house?" said the Nostalgia Critic as he looked around the living room at the piles of video games scattered throughout the floor. "It wasn't a part of the roommate that you infect my house with these abominations."

"I'm the fucking nerd," retorted the Angry Video Game Nerd. "Like I said before, I need these video games to make me feel angry like the Hulk, thus unleashing my full powers to my enemies. The Hulk becomes the Hulk by getting mad, and so do I. And besides, I purchase all of these awful video games to destroy them afterwards, thus sparing the world from being exposed to them. Say, Nostalgia Critic, will you hand me that toaster for me?"

The Nostalgia Critic handed the Angry Video Game Nerd the toaster, perplexed by the Nerd's request. The Angry Video Game Nerd placed the 1989 Back to the Future game into the toaster slot, and pressed the lever on the side of the toaster. The game spontaneously exploded into a ball of flames.

"Alright!" shouted the Angry Video Game Nerd. "Now I'm ready to start a brand new day!"

The Nostalgia Critic looked confused as he walked slowly away from the Angry Video Game Nerd.

HurricaneAubrey was sitting on the specialized red subway. She was wearing a shirt with yellow and white stripes (the same one she wore in her 51 Things I Found Around My House video), blue jeans, and sneakers to the Internet Police Complex. As it turned out, no specific dress clothes at the Internet Police Complex existed, meaning that she could wear everyday clothing to work. As people departed and entered into the red subway, she saw that all of them were carrying electronic devices to watch videos or listen to music except for her, thus being the only person to pay attention to her surroundings.

"These people go onto the internet on a daily basis, and yet, they remain ignorant of a police force trying to protect them from threats they could not fathom," HurricaneAubrey thought.  
"Little did they know that they were right next to a member of that secret organization dedicated to defend their right to enjoy the internet without being harmed by unscrupulous people."

Soon, HurricaneAubrey was the only person left on the red subway car when the last few people left the subway station near Chicago's Loop. The destination of The Tower was in Chicago's Loop, and as the red subway car moved past an aging Under Construction sign, the subway car reached a dead end. Soon afterwards, HurricaneAubrey inserted her gold-plated membership card into an electronic slot underneath a seat.

"HurricaneAubrey, member of the Internet Police. I am here to work at the Internet Police Complex," stated HurricaneAubrey into the subway car's speakers.

Just like in The Tower's elevator, red and blue lights filled the subway car, scanning to see if it really was HurricaneAubrey present within the subway car.

"Access confirmed," said the female voice. "Welcome to the Internet Police Complex, HurricaneAubrey. You may establish your office at the Internet Police Complex. Have a nice day."

The wall blocking the red subway car moved out of the way, allowing access to a secret track that led directly beneath The Tower. Eventually, the red subway car reached a subway station that was lined with flat-screen televisions that presented various internet-related topics. Making her way up the flight of marble steps that opened up to the Hub, HurricaneAubrey saw the massive television screens that were situated throughout the Hub, feeding the same information as the flat-screen televisions within the subway station.

"Today, the U.S. government has declared that the intelligence of Americans have been decreasing since the turn of the millennium," addressed the male news reporter in front of the U.S. Capitol. HurricaneAubrey saw a line graph indicating the decline of American intelligence. "According to many analysts, the newest generation of Americans is the most troublesome and ignorant out of all the others, a far cry from the Greatest Generation that emerged from the Great Depression and World War II." HurricaneAubrey then saw footage of the news reporter interviewing an old congressman. "What do you have to say about these disturbing facts?" asked the reporter.

"Oh these young rascals are the reason behind this economic recession and the rise in stupidity in today's world," answered the old congressman. "These hooligans should look at themselves and be filled with shame at being young and despicable. I hate these bastards so much."

"Thank you for that enlightening interview," replied the reporter as he shifted uncomfortably.

The footage turned back to the reporter in front of the U.S. Capitol.

"As it turns out, tensions are high regarding the sorry state of America," said the reporter. "Now back to you at the studio."

"Thank you." answered the smiling female news anchor, "Coming up next, scientists from the Institute of Internet Studies debate whether or not Milhouse Is Not a Meme is a meme."

Being informed of the depressing current events, HurricaneAubrey made her way to her new office space, and after a few minutes on the glass elevator, she reached her personal desk that was situated in the middle of a congregation of other office tables, with their occupants typing rapidly on their respective laptops. Feeling her desk needed some decorations, HurricaneAubrey reached into her purse and placed the following items on the table: a fake green artichoke, a pink Giga pet attached to a keychain, a portable florescence lamp, a picture of her two of her friends in the rain, sunglasses, a name tag labeled Aubrey, a banana phone, and a crying green pumpkin. HurricaneAubrey then took out her own laptop, and after turning it on, she noticed a note on her table.

"Assignments for a rookie at the Internet Police are as followed: assisting the field agents from the Internet Police Complex, searching the internet for any potential criminal activity, and bringing refreshments to any higher ranking member of the Internet Police," addressed the note.

Knowing what to do, HurricaneAubrey began her search through the internet for any suspicious activity. She ventured through websites like Know Your , Wikipedia, TV Tropes, and YouTube for the scum of the web. After searching for quite some time, she found someone she thought was dubious: Fred Figglehorn. She watched a few clips of this Fred character online, and she was irritated when she witnessed the video Fred Goes Swimming.

"Hey it's Fred!" said the high-pitched Fred to the camera. In HurricaneAubrey's opinion, he was an attention seeking whore who does random acts in front of the camera. Now Fred was swimming in an inflatable pool in his backyard and making a fool of himself.

"Oh my God! I just peed inside the pool! My mom's going to be so mad because she said I'm not allowed to pee inside it! Why did I do that?!" said Fred in his squeaky voice as he started to scream and whine.

"I saw enough," said HurricaneAubrey as she closed the video and began writing an article stating why she thought Fred Figglehorn was part of the scum of the web.

After viewing the video, HurricaneAubrey couldn't believe that Fred was one of the most subscribed users on YouTube. Why did people subscribe to a person with no creativity and no talent (unless you counted the talent of being an annoyance)? As she continued to write her article, she soon realized that the people around her were making quick glances at her, with many of them looking older than her. When HurricaneAubrey tried to look at them directly in the eye, they immediately went back to their work on their laptops.

"I wonder if they mistrust me because of my age," thought HurricaneAubrey.

HurricaneAubrey looked at her desk and saw the various gizmos scattered throughout it. At that same moment, she inadvertently clicked on the video Fred Figglehorn-Christmas Cash-Official Music Video.

"Hey it's Fred!" screamed Fred, starling HurricaneAubrey from her moment of thought. Now Fred was singing and dancing in a cheap music video. "Cash! Cash! Money! Money!" sang Fred throughout the music video.

All of a sudden, HurricaneAubrey realized why everyone at the Internet Police Complex was suspicious of her. She had decorations on her desk whereas all the other desks were mostly bare, with her unorthodox sense of style singling her out as the unusual one. But by far the most important reason was she was a part of a generation separate from the other Internet Police agents. And she was a part of the generation that included Fred Figglehorn, a child trapped inside a grown man's body. Assuming that the other Internet Police agents saw Fred's video on the internet, it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume that they saw HurricaneAubrey as being the embodiment of Fred Figglehorn based on their similar ages, resulting in her being loathed due to her perceived liking of Fred and his antics. Now she really despised Fred Figglehorn.

"Attention. Will HurricaneAubrey please deliver some tea to Mission Control at once?" said the overhead speakers.

Feeling relieved of getting off the topic of Fred Figglehorn, HurricaneAubrey proceeded to go to the kitchens. Pressing the button Kitchen on the glass elevator, HurricaneAubrey traveled to the Kitchen of the Internet Police Complex, and soon, she was in the stainless steel kitchen. She saw the chefs working in the kitchen, with no robots accompanying them.

"How come there are no robots in here?" asked HurricaneAubrey as she was getting a cart full of cups filled with tea from a chef. She was thinking back to Wheatley preparation of her meal during the Orientation Tour.

"Because humans can cook better than robots," said the chef. "I mean robots can't do everything better, right?"

"Okay," said an embarrassed HurricaneAubrey as she pushed the cart into the glass elevator.

The glass elevator moved erratically towards Mission Control, and if not for the tea cups being held on tightly by the cart's metal clamps and being individually covered by porcelain tops, tea would have been thrown about in the elevator. With the cups remaining in their place on the cart, the elevator reached Mission Control. When the doors opened, HurricaneAubrey saw a congregation of agents sitting in front of monitors containing various codes and numbers that she was unable to make out. The Internet Police's Mission Control looked remarkably similar to the Mission Control at NASA's Johnson Space Center, except that instead of an image of a spacecraft being present on the widescreen directly in front of the controllers (with two images with different camera angles being projected from the screen as a split screen effect), there were two agents holding guns and cautiously approaching an apartment building. This Mission Control was also bathed in black and red lighting.

"So this is Mission Control," remarked HurricaneAubrey as she rolled the cart full of tea cups into the room. Based on HurricaneAubrey's understanding, Mission Control was where the most important missions are monitored. Normally, agents operated independently on their missions, but for those critical assignments, Mission Control would assist them along the way from the Complex.

A long-haired man with a goatee motioned HurricaneAubrey to pass him a cup of tea

"Here you are, Mr. Bozard," whispered HurricaneAubrey as she passed the cup of tea to him, having seen his name Nash Bozard emblazoned on a sign stationed on his desk.

HurricaneAubrey assumed that this Mr. Bozard was the head of Mission Control based on his authoritative presence and being behind a impressive wooden desk he was stationed behind, which possessed the following items: a microphone attached to a boom pole, and coffee mug with the name Nash Bozard emblazoned on it, and a small-scale model of the Model X7 Dimensioniser time booth from Inspector Spacetime that appeared to be filled with sherbet lemons and jelly babies.

"Okay folks!" said Mr. Bozard in his microphone to his fellow agents in front of him. "We are about to finally catch her in London." Mr. Bozard then pushed a green button on his desk and spoke to the two agents on the screen. "So prepare yourself Agent Film Brain and Agent Welshy to corner her inside the abandoned flat."

"Copy that," said Agent Welshy with a Welsh accent.

"Let's get this bitch once and for all," exclaimed Agent Film Brain with an English accent.

"Right behind you through the cameras attached to your bodies," added Mr. Bozard.

"Their heart rates are fine, as well as most of their vital organs," shouted one of the agents sitting in front of Mr. Bozard.

"Excellent," said Mr. Bozard, "Let's do this!"

HurricaneAubrey saw the two agents enter into the flat stealthily. On the closer inspection, she saw that Agent Welshy had a knit cap, long brown hair, and glasses whereas Agent Film Brain had short, light brownish hair, with both of them wearing police uniforms. The occupants of Mission Control were silent as the two British agents were trying to move through the various rooms of the deserted flat, holding their flashlights as they traveled through the darkness.

"Thanks for helping us fight this threat to our country," commented Film Brain to Mr. Bozard.

"Glad to help," said Mr. Bozard. "From this day forward, Magibon is finished."

"Magibon?" thought HurricaneAubrey. "Who's Magibon?"

HurricaneAubrey continued to pass the tea cups to the agents supervising the mission, and as she was making her way down the aisle, there was a bang emitting from the screen, causing HurricaneAubrey to look directly at it. The next thing she knew, she was staring at a door kicked ajar by Agent Film Brain, which was seen from Film Brain's perspective.

"Where are you, Magibon? You can't hide forever from me," remarked Film Brain as he continued to search the darkened room for any signs of her. At last, he spotted a source of light coming from the bedroom.

HurricaneAubrey heard a crashing sound coming from Mission Control, but nobody seemed to have heard it (they were preoccupied with Film Brain's wanderings in the apartment). She searched for whatever made that sound, and looking down on the floor, she realized she had dropped a cup onto the floor. Reaching down to pick up the remnants of the cup, she heard another sound: people fainting. Looking up again, she saw that Agent Film Brain and everyone in Mission Control had fallen, with their eyes bulging out of their sockets.

"Oh no!" shouted HurricaneAubrey as she looked at each person on the floor. "I need to send for help, quick!"

As she started to type on her Global Electronic Database (G.E.D.), there was a shuffling of noise: Agent Film Brain and everyone in Mission Control started getting back up on their feet. HurricaneAubrey let out a sigh of relief, but almost immediately following that, she saw that a mood of ecstasy was on the faces of Agent Film Brain and all of the Mission Control staff.

"I can't believe I just saw the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," said Mr. Bozard as he smiled.

"I agree with you, old chap," said Film Brain as he was facing away from what looked like to be a computer screen. "Her smile is illuminating, her hair is so luxurious, and most pleasing are her penetrating eyes."

"Hello," answered an agent on the videophone of the G.E.D.

"Hello. This is HurricaneAubrey. We have a situation here. Everyone at Mission Control is behaving weirdly. They have a sort of rapturous look on their faces," answered HurricaneAubrey.

Looking around Mission Control, she noticed that everyone present were all men, of whom all of them were in love with Magibon.

"Pathetic," she thought. "These men can't control their sexual desires around women."

"Is there anything else, HurricaneAubrey?" said the agent on the videophone.

"Uh, yes. Agent Film Brain is currently inflicted with the same conditions in an abandoned flat in London," answered HurricaneAubrey.

"Mission Control. Do you read me? Please answer me," said Welshy as he tried to search for Film Brain in the flat.

Just then, Agent Welshy entered into the room where Agent Film Brain was located in. From Agent Welshy's perspective, Agent Film Brain was blocking the computer screen from his sight.

"Okay. What's going on, Film Brain?" asked Welshy as he moved to peek around Film Brain.

"Who could this mystery woman be that had the power to make men infatuated with her?" thought HurricaneAubrey as Welshy saw the computer behind Film Brain.

HurricaneAubrey was immediately struck with an image of a young Japanese girl sitting in a room doing nothing. Her body became paralyzed as her eyes became wide open. She fell right onto the ground.

"Hello? Are you there? Answer me?" said the agent on the videophone of HurricaneAubrey's dropped G.E.D.

Getting up after what seems to be a few second, HurricaneAubrey stared straight into what she thought was a goddess. Her face was simply indescribable, and HurricaneAubrey was trying to describe the features to a comprehensible degree.

"Her smile looks like a sumptuous crescent moon. Her hair had a silky smooth texture that she wanted to brush," stammered HurricaneAubrey as she tugged at the top of her shirt. "Her eyes are staring lovingly onto my body. I just want to wrap my arms around hers and become enthralled at seeing those enchanting eyes close up."

The last thing HurricaneAubrey saw before falling unconscious was the Mission Control screen being turned off and people rushing into the room with hospital stretchers.

"Can you hear me, HurricaneAubrey? Are you still alive?" said a mechanical voice.

"Where am I? What the hell just happened?!," exclaimed HurricaneAubrey in a surprisingly thick Brooklyn accent.

Opening her eyes, she realized that she was not in Mission Control anymore but in an unfamiliar room. Getting up from what looked like a makeshift bed, HurricaneAubrey saw that she was in some sort of an artificial garden, complete with fake shrubs, fake grass, and mechanical birds chirping. In front of her was Wheatley hanging on his Management Rail.

"I'll tell you what exactly happened. Apparently, an agent heard your hypnotized chanting and immediately sent for the other agents to Mission Control, and after a few of them were caught in Magibon's trance, someone had the bright idea to shut down the Mission Control screen. We sent everyone affected here and this is where we are now. Also, Agent Film Brain and Agent Welshy were located by the British Internet Police and are currently recovering at their Internet Police headquarters in London," answered Wheatley.

"What exactly is this place?" said HurricaneAubrey as she stared at a flowing fountain.

"Oh sorry. I should have answered that earlier," said Wheatley. "This is the Infirmary. This is where all injured agents are sent when they are in a close proximity to the Internet Police Complex. The Infirmary was designed to be most inviting to the patients, and in order to accomplish that task, it was decided that a garden-like environment would do a better job than sterile hospital rooms. Do you like it?"

"I think so," said HurricaneAubrey as she examined the Infirmary, with all of the agents affected by Magibon's stare also waking up dazed and confused.

"I heard that the Chief is now putting the capture of Magibon as a top priority," said Wheatley. "She's sending her best agents to investigate her origins and whereabouts."

In Chicago, one of the tallest buildings in the world was swaying the wind. This building was called many different names. One was the Willis Tower. Another was the Sears Tower. Though the Willis Tower was the official name for the structure, many Chicagoans preferred to call it the Sears Tower, which was the original name for the tower. At the top of the Sears Tower (right below the observation deck) was the Chief's office. To gain access to the Chief's office, Internet Police agents had to either be requested by the Chief personally or ask for an appointment at the reception room directly beneath the Chief's office. Once agents had permission to enter the Chief's office, they were greeted with the sight of a cluttered mess. For one thing, the walls of the office were covered in maps of several geographic locales throughout the world. As for the floor, it was covered in many boxes containing several global artifacts, ranging from African masks to didgeridoos. It would appear that the Chief had an avid interest in human geography. And in this jumbled office, the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd were standing in front of the Chief's desk, of which the spectacular Chicago skyline was displayed on the large window behind her.

"For the past few years, men and women of all ages have been affected by a Japanese girl by the name of Magibon," explained the Chief. "Despite doing basically nothing in her videos besides staring into the camera, Magibon had accumulated massive amounts of views and subscribers on YouTube. You may be asking 'how did she gather all of this fame with no talent whatsoever?'"

The Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd were baffled by this question, and allowed the Chief to answer that question for them.

"She has been achieving YouTube fame by way of her hypnotizing eyes. From what our agents could gather, her eyes can see directly into the deepest part of your soul and make you fall in love with her. Once she has engulfed you in her loving eyes, you will defend her in any way possible, whether it be subscribing to her channel to fighting anyone who wants to hurt her," said the Chief.

The Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd were wondering if she was the cause for the debacle at Mission Control.

"Just a few hours ago, Nash Bozard and all the occupants of Mission Control were found in a state of ecstasy along with Agent Welshy and Agent Film Brain," addressed the Chief. "It can be understood that Magibon has struck in the heart of the Internet Police Complex. Fortunately, Magibon's charm only lasts a few hours as our affected agents have recovered in the Infirmary, but of course, Magibon's influence on a person can prove more permanent after repeated prolonged exposure. And for that, it is of vital importance that we catch Magibon and bring her to justice before she hypnotizes the entire population into loving her indefinitely."

"Do we have any leads on the case?" asked the Nostalgia Critic.

"Why yes," answered the Chief. "It turns out that Magibon is extremely popular in Japan, and after several searches on the internet, we have uncovered the location of Magibon's three biggest fans in the Japanese city of Sapporo. It is to my understanding that these three fans may hold the key to Magibon's location in Japan. Thus I will give you the following assignment: Find these three fans in Japan and interrogate them about Magibon's whereabouts."

"Got it," replied the Nostalgia Critic.

"Right on it, Chief," answered the Angry Video Game Nerd.

The Chief saw the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd departing from the office.

"Oh. And one last thing," said the Chief as she saw the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd at the elevator leading down to the reception area. "You two have been capable of some spectacular arrests in the past, but unfortunately, you two have also been responsible for some fatal blunders. Let's hope that you do not fail this time. Best of luck to both of you."

"So the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd are off to figure out where Magibon is?" said HurricaneAubrey. HurricaneAubrey was talking to Wheatley in the Dining Hall. She was sitting alone with Wheatley, with the other agents eating at a distance away from her.

"That's right," said Wheatley. "They are on the first plane heading to Sapporo, where their investigation will begin."

HurricaneAubrey noticed her isolation from the rest of the people consuming their meals. Sensing HurricaneAubrey's feelings of loneliness, Wheatley decided to share his thoughts on the matter.

"Don't worry. You just need to convince them that you are not rash or narrow-minded like many of your generation," suggested Wheatley. "What I would do is to think of solutions of how to defeat Magibon? That will probably convince all the other agents that you are taking your job seriously and are willing to be fully integrated into their sacred circle."

"You're absolutely right," professed HurricaneAubrey as she got up from her table. "I need to help the Angry Video Game Nerd and the Nostalgia Critic in their quest to destroy Magibon."

"That's the spirit," exclaimed Wheatley as he moved closer to HurricaneAubrey. "Just go onto your laptop and search for the Achilles Heel in Magibon's armor."

"I'll do just that," said HurricaneAubrey as she ran enthusiastically to the glass elevator.

Now back at her desk, HurricaneAubrey pulled out her laptop and began searching for anything that could prove vital in defeating Magibon. As she began to log onto the internet, an error message emerged onto the screen.

"The traffic on the internet is full," said the message.

"Great. Just great," exclaimed HurricaneAubrey as she saw the other agents also struggling with dealing with the high internet traffic.

HurricaneAubrey went back to the glass elevator. She didn't know why this was a good idea. Perhaps she believed that a little stroll could help her relax in finding out the answer to defeating Magibon. Once in the glass elevator, she saw a plethora of buttons to choose from. Scanning in every direction possible, she finally found a room that could help her: Old Library. Pressing the button, HurricaneAubrey found herself speeding towards the Terminal and descending underground. After a few minutes of traveling left, right, and down, the glass elevator emerged in a barely-lit room filled with rows upon rows of steel shelves that were as tall as California sequoia trees. The books upon them appeared to have accumulated dust after many years of dormancy. HurricaneAubrey stepped onto the steel platform that gave way to a view of this forest of steel bookshelves. She was all alone in this strange environment, with her feet emitting thudding sounds as she walked on the steel platform. She approached an old-fashioned computer whose monitor and keyboard had also gathered dust due to lack of use. The computer's screen was green with yellow lettering, with the computer requesting her to type in her desired choice of books.

"Let's see," said HurricaneAubrey aloud. "What books would help me the most in defeating Magibon?" Thinking that Magibon was like a mythological monster, she decided to gather all the books on mythology as possible. "Mythology books," said HurricaneAubrey aloud as she typed in those words onto the computer.

She saw that a rusty robotic arm was moving on its railing amongst the many steel bookshelves, with several smaller claw-like extensions emerging from the hand of the arm (each grabbing books from the shelves). HurricaneAubrey settled herself on a steel chair of a steel table and waited for the mythological books to be brought to her.

Meanwhile, the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd were driving through the streets of Sapporo, the largest city on the Japanese island of Hokkaido. The streets were snow-filled and chilly, with the city's citizens wearing coats as they went on their daily routines.

"How far is it to our final destination?" asked the Angry Video Game Nerd.

"We're just about here," said the Nostalgia Critic as he parked the car in front of a brick apartment building. "Let's get some information," proclaimed the Nostalgia Critic as he got out of the car along with the Angry Video Game Nerd.

The two men made their way up the stairs to the uppermost room where boisterous noises were emanating from the door. The Nostalgia Critic knocked on the door. After a few seconds, the door opened. A fat Japanese man wearing a blue shirt came to answer the door,

"Can I help you?" inquired the blue shirt Japanese man. The man knew that the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd were Americans.

"Why yes," said the Nostalgia Critic as he entered the room with the Angry Video Game Nerd. The apartment they were situated in was a quagmire of papers and electronics, which also contained two other fat Japanese men wearing a red and white shirt respectively. "I am here to ask you some questions. First off, are you three the biggest Magibon fans?"

"Of course we are," said the red shirt man. "We love everything about this girl: her smile, her smooth skin, and of course, her gigantic eyes."

"We are dedicated to protect Magibon from any harm," said the white shirt man. "She is our princess and we will not allow any monsters to take her from the castle."

"I am sure you three are protective of Magibon," answered the Nostalgia Critic, "but I must inform you three about a grave situation: Magibon is attempting to convert the entire world into her mindless worshippers. And if we fail, then humanity will be doomed to spend its very existence in serving Magibon."

As the Nostalgia Critic continued his ramblings about Magibon to the three Japanese men, the Angry Video Game Nerd saw a primitive iPod with headphones being passed between the three men, almost as if it was their life source as they carefully handed the device between each other's hand like a valuable artifact. From the Angry Video Game Nerd's observation, the man currently holding the iPod appeared not to be paying attention to what the Nostalgia Critic was saying.

"So after all of that explanation," finished the Nostalgia Critic, "will you please give us the location of Magibon?"

"No," said the red shirt Japanese man.

"We are shown to protect Magibon for life," added the white shirt Japanese man.

The blue shirt Japanese man wasn't paying attention to the Nostalgia Critic request as he was listening to the one iPod. Realizing his fellow men were defending Magibon against the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd, he reared his head upwards to meet the two agents' eyes.

"We will never surrender her to you," emphasized the blue shirt man as he stood up with the other men, simultaneously cracking their knuckles in preparation for a confrontation (with the iPod being left on the table in front of them). "You will experience a beating like nothing else. And there's nothing that you can do to stop it."

The Nostalgia Critic adjusted his tie as he prepared to fight these three large men with the Angry Video Game Nerd. But surprisingly, the Nerd stood in the room with a calm expression on his face, as if a great fight wasn't about to take place. To the Nostalgia Critic's confusion, the Angry Video Game Nerd grabbed the iPod from the table and held it up like a doggy treat. The instance the iPod was seized by the Nerd, the three men screamed and cried.

"Give it back!" yelled the blue shirt man.

"It's ours!" replied the white shirt man.

"We need it!" said the red shirt man.

The Angry Video Game Nerd felt that he now had the upper hand. "You better fucking tell us where Magibon is if you want your iPod back," said the Angry Video Game Nerd as he held the iPod in his hand. "Okay. Now tell me where the fuck is Magibon?"

"Well the first thing you should know is that Magibon is not really Japanese," said the red shirt man. "She's actually an American. Despite looking Japanese in her videos, she was born in West Palm Beach, Florida and is currently living in rural Pennsylvania on the outskirts of Philadelphia."

"How do you know all of this?" asked the Nostalgia Critic with an astonished expression on his face.

"We are in regular contact with Magibon considering we are her three biggest fans, and for our loyalty towards her, she told us her deepest secrets to us," said the white shirt man.

"Now that we provided you with Magibon's identity and whereabouts, can we please get our iPod back?" emphasized the red shirt man.

"Sure thing," announced the Angry Video Game Nerd. "Just follow me and you will get your iPod back in the end."

The Nostalgia Critic had no idea what the Nerd was up to, but feeling that he had the best judgment, he decided to go along with his plan. The three biggest fans of Magibon followed the Nerd out of their residence and down the stairs of the apartment complex. Eventually, they were at the Nostalgia Critic and the Nerd's parked car outside of the apartment building. The Nerd opened the back door of the car and requested the three Japanese men to enter. The three men did so in the hopes of receiving their iPod back, but as it turned out, they soon realized that the back seat of the car was completely separated from the front seats of the car, essentially making them prisoners of a disguised police car.

"I'm sorry," said the Angry Video Game Nerd through the window of the car to the three Japanese men. "Since you stated that you were in regular contact of Magibon, I had to take precautions in preventing you three from contacting her and foiling our chances of capturing her."

"Let us out now!" screamed all three men.

"You three are under arrest for threatening physical violence against the Internet Police and conspiring with a wanted criminal of the Internet," said the Angry Video Game Nerd. "Now do us a favor and stop banging your fucking hands on the fucking window."

As the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd were making their way back to the Internet Police Headquarters in Chicago, HurricaneAubrey was continuing her search through the mythological books for a way of destroying Magibon. She's looked through books of Egyptian mythology, Celtic mythology, Mayan mythology, etc. After flipping through page after page of several decaying books, she felt the urge to fall asleep.

"I can't go to sleep now," thought HurricaneAubrey as her vision became more and more blurry. "They need me to eliminate Magibon."

But the physical toil of spending hours in the Old Library overcame any mental urge of continuing on, and thus, HurricaneAubrey succumbed to sleep while she was looking up Greek mythology.

HurricaneAubrey was walking through a meadow positioned in an ordinary suburb. She was dressed in a black business suit and she had black glasses on her face. She had no idea how she got there, and in her mind, it wouldn't matter in the grand scheme of things because she knew why she was there for some strange reason: she was going to be honored with the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd in their successful attempt of taking down Magibon. In front of her laid a congregation of Internet Police agents in their seats, with the Chief being stationed behind an ornate wooden podium, and right behind the Chief were the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd wearing medals of achievements around their necks. As for her, she was being beckoned by the Chief for a medal of her own. With the wind whipping her hair around her head and the grass beneath her feet, HurricaneAubrey walked towards the gathering of agents in order to be honored as a noble Internet Police agent. The radiant sun was enhancing the variety of people and things found at the event, from HurricaneAubrey's brunette hair to the black suits of the many Internet Police agents. At last, she was almost near the podium where the Chief was, an act that was reflected in the clapping of all the smiling agents.

"There you are HurricaneAubrey! I've been looking everywhere for you!" said a voice in the descending sun.

HurricaneAubrey blinked her eyes and realized that she was not outside at all but in the dusty and rusting Old Library, and in front of her, Wheatley was staring at her with a concerned look.

"What happened? Were the Angry Video Game Nerd and the Nostalgia Critic successful in their mission?" stated HurricaneAubrey as she brushed her hair away from her face.

"They just returned from Japan with crucial information regarding Magibon. It turns out that Magibon is actually a Weeaboo in that she is an American pretending to be Japanese. Right now, the Chief has gained this information from them and has assembled a team of agents to capture Magibon once and for all. Magibon's residence has been located just outside of Philadelphia and the team is now closing in on her," explained Wheatley.

"Bless the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd for figuring that out," added HurricaneAubrey.

Wheatley began to move on his Management Rail out of the Old Library when HurricaneAubrey was struck with a curious question.

"How did the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd manage to get the information when they were in Japan?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

Wheatley looked back at HurricaneAubrey and said, "They seized the iPod of the three men they questioned and used it to their advantage in getting information from them."

With Wheatley leaving the Old Library, HurricaneAubrey thought about how the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd were able to get the Japanese men to talk. Right away, she was hit with an epiphany, and searching through the books on Greek mythology that she had recently been perusing through, she found what she was looking for: the myth of Perseus and Medusa. In the myth, Medusa was a hideous snake-haired monster that could turn people into stone, but in the end, the Greek hero Perseus was able to slay her. In the course of his quest to kill Medusa, Perseus encountered the three Graeae Sisters, of who were old, grey-haired women. Perseus was able to get them to answer some of his questions by taking the one eye they shared between themselves, and in possession of this special eye, the Graeae Sisters opened up to Perseus' questioning.

"So the three Japanese men can be compared to the three Graeae Sisters based upon their weakness of being overtly attached to one object," thought HurricaneAubrey. "And if there is a connection between these two groups, there must be similarities between Magibon and Medusa. Of course, both Magibon and Medusa have a penetrating stare that will have disastrous consequences for their unfortunate lookers. Therefore, the method of combating them must be similar as well."

Feeling relieved by this thought, HurricaneAubrey grabbed the Greek mythology book containing the myth of Perseus and Medusa and proceeded to go to the Mission Control room by way of the glass elevator. Pushing the button Mission Control, the glass elevator made its way to its designated room. HurricaneAubrey suspected that the team sent by the Chief would be supervised by Mission Control, and sure enough, Mission Control was packed with agents at their various stations, with the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd placed just behind Mr. Bozard. However, the widescreen was completely turned off, perhaps as a precaution against Magibon's illustrious stare affecting Mission Control once more.

"Let's get it right this time, people," said Mr. Bozard into his microphone. "Give me a reading on all the vital signs."

"Heart rate is steady," said one agent.

"Breathing is excellent," said another agent.

"Their stress levels are low," added another agent.

"Very good," announced Mr. Bozard, "Are you ready to take down Magibon, agents?"

"Just a few more minutes, Mr. Bozard," addressed an agent whose voice was being projected from the widescreen's speakers. "We're still planning out a strategy."

"Okay guys. We tracked Magibon down here in this neighborhood just outside of Philadelphia. Now all we have to do is to take her down," expressed the agent.

Seven agents were in front of a normal American house in rural Pennsylvania, a house that no one would have suspected was inhabited by Magibon. Now that night has fallen, the agents were now gathering around in a circle to discuss their attack plan.

"I know," said one agent. "We should enter the house by the chimney as an element of surprise."

"No, no" countered another agent. "We should perform the siege against the house and let Magibon starve herself until she surrenders."

"Alright agents," answered Mr. Bozard. "I say that we do a number crunch on the likelihood of the success of the chimney plan."

"Yeah give me a second," remarked another agent, "I am coming up with a 32.33% of success for the chimney strategy."

"That's not a very good chance of success," answered Mr. Bozard, "but it'll do."

"I would say that we dig underground and create a passageway that Magibon would never expect to find in her house," added another agent. "That would be instrumental in…."

But then a shout was heard by both Mission Control and the team in Philadelphia: a shout of stupidity.

"All right. Time's up! Let's do this! Leeeeeeeeeeerooooy Jenkinnnnns!" shouted Leeroy Jenkins.

"What the hell just happened?!" shouted Mr. Bozard.

"Leroy is running directly towards the house and he just kicked down the front door," said one agent.

"Just stick to the plan, people. Just stick to the plan," addressed Mr. Bozard as he was trying to assert calm as panic was arising at both Mission Control and the field agents.

HurricaneAubrey heard as the agents carry out their original plan of climbing through the chimney, and from her perspective, a great battle was being carried out. All HurricaneAubrey could hear were incomprehensible words and the smashing of furniture.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" shouted Mr. Bozard as he stretched his arms in frustration into the microphone.

"I'll you what the fuck is wrong with him, Mr. Bozard," said the Nostalgia Critic as he looked at one of the computer monitors. "He's been secretly watching Magibon for the past few years, and judging by his high level of adrenaline and rapid heart rate, it would appear that he has dedicated a murderous love for Magibon."

"Mr. Bozard. All of the agents besides Leeroy are down," said an agent at a computer monitor.

"We need to get to that neighborhood as soon as possible," said the Angry Video Game Nerd as he began to travel to the glass elevator with the Nostalgia Critic.

HurricaneAubrey followed them into the glass elevator, hoping that they would listen to her suggestions in defeating Magibon.

"What do you want, little girl?" said the Nostalgia Critic in a patronizing tone.

"Sir. I am not a little girl," said HurricaneAubrey as she displayed the Greek mythology book to both the Nerd and the Nostalgia Critic. "I want you two to her my opinion regarding Magibon."

"Go on," said the Nerd.

"Okay. I made a link between Medusa and Magibon in that they are both creatures that rely on their eyes to defeat their opponents. And in the myth of Medusa, the Greek hero Perseus defeated Medusa by locking his eyes on his shield and walking backwards as a means of avoiding Medusa's deadly stare. Leeroy Jenkins made the mistake of running straight into Magibon's eyes, rendering him helpless to Magibon's charm," said HurricaneAubrey with much confidence. "And I also made a connection between the three fans that you interviewed with the three Graeae Sisters in the myth, and according to the myth, Perseus, after visiting the three Graeae Sisters, went to gather equipments for his quest in defeating Medusa. These equipments were as followed: The sword of Zeus, the shield of Athena, and the helmet of Hades. Seeing that you two went to see the three fans like Perseus did the three Graeae, I would think that we must gather some god-like weapons in getting Magibon, of which can be found in the Enrichment Center. So what do you think of my suggestion."

"That might just work," answered the Angry Video Game Nerd, "What do you say, Mr. Critic?"

The Nostalgia Critic responded with a reluctant nod. The Angry Video Game Nerd ignored the Nostalgia Critic less than pleased expression towards HurricaneAubrey's plan and pushed the button for the Enrichment Center. The glass elevator hurried its way towards the Internet Police Enrichment Center, and once there, the Angry Video Game Nerd ran through the many independent laboratories of the Enrichment Center. As the Nerd was gathering what he thought might be useful in the mission, the Nostalgia Critic and HurricaneAubrey were left in the glass elevator, which was an uncomfortable affair seeing that both individuals were smiling nervously at each other.

"I hear that you are from Brooklyn, a borough of New York City," asked the Nostalgia Critic in a less than polite tone.

"That's correct," answered HurricaneAubrey. "And I take it you are a native of Chicago."

"Of course I'm a native of Chicago," said the Nostalgia Critic with a sense of pride. "Chicago is the greatest city in America, a title that is routinely stolen by New York City year after year."

HurricaneAubrey saw that the Nostalgia Critic was looking at her less than conventional clothing that consisted of a shirt with yellow and white stripes, blue jeans, and sneakers.

"I must say that your dress uniform isn't very professional. But I shouldn't be upset. Young people these days have no idea of maturity and seriousness," said the Nostalgia Critic as he stood up straight like a military general.

"I am nothing like them," countered HurricaneAubrey to the Nostalgia Critic's criticism of her. "I am a mature woman, not an emotionally insensitive girl."

"I would like you to prove that false statement to me, HurricaneAubrey," answered the Nostalgia Critic.

Before HurricaneAubrey could disprove the Nostalgia Critic's claim, the Angry Video Game Nerd returned with what looked like his Konami LaserScope, a Power Pad cape, the Power Glove, a U-Force, and a Roll 'n' Rocker.

"I got everything I need here," said the Angry Video Game Nerd as he started to tie his Power Pad cape around his neck and the U-Force around his chest. "I have what you suggested. I have the helmet of Hades."

The Angry Video Game Nerd placed the Konami LaserScope onto his head, with one eye being covered from the Konami LaserScope's extension.

"The shield of Athena," continued the Nerd.

The Angry Video Game Nerd held up the Roll 'n' Rocker in his hand as a shield he would bring to the battlefield.

"The sword of Zeus," finished the Nerd.

HurricaneAubrey expected the Nerd to be holding something. But the Nerd was holding nothing but his fists.

"I present to you, Nostalgia Critic, the Power Glove. It's so bad, and in a good way, not in a shitty way," said the Nerd as he passed the glove into the Nostalgia Critic's hands.

The Critic saw the Power Glove, and feeling brave enough, he slipped the device onto his left hand. It did nothing.

"Yeah. It's bad alright. It's a bad piece of motherfucking shit," said the Nostalgia Critic.

But as the Nostalgia Critic expressed his disappointment over the Power Grove, lightning emerged from the fingertips. The lightning bolts struck a variety of graduated cylinders and beakers on the laboratory tables, with their contents spilling onto the floor.

"Holy shit!" exclaimed the Nostalgia Critic as he looked upon the almighty Power Glove.

"This is the bad and in a good way Power Glove," explained the Nerd. "It shoots out lightning based upon how well its user can control it from the mind. You have to approach it with confidence and calmness. Just like the Jedi must be one with the force in order to perform their tricks, you must be one with the glove in order to operate it properly. So I would advise you to only use the Power Glove only in dire circumstances."

The Nostalgia Critic gazed the Glove with much admiration and awe. He felt that he could produce so much power from it. Knowing that time was of the essence, the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd proceeded to their flying DeLorean and made their way to the outskirts of Philadelphia. With the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd flying as fast as they could towards Magibon's house, HurricaneAubrey was left behind due to her rookie position at the Internet Police. Wanting to see if her suggestion to the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd would save the day, HurricaneAubrey made her way back to Mission Control in order to be a witness to the taking down of Magibon.

"Is this really the time to be playing video games" said the Nostalgia Critic as he saw the Angry Video Game Nerd play the Amazing Spider-Man on the Game Boy in the passenger seat.

"Don't you remember? I need to play these shitty games in order to unleash my anger onto my enemies," answered the Angry Video Game Nerd.

"Right," said the Nostalgia Critic doubtfully.

The flying DeLorean reached the house they were looking for on the outskirts of Philadelphia.

"We're here," said the Nostalgia Critic as he marched onto the grass with the Angry Video Game Nerd.

In front of them laid Magibon's house. It was a grisly sight as the bodies of the fallen agents were scattered all over the lawn.

"Don't worry. They're all still alive as demonstrated by their continuous heart rates," said Mr. Bozard from the speakers of the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd's body cameras. "Are you able to access the house?"

"Yes. The front door is wide open. I'm going in first to see if it's clear," stated the Nostalgia Critic as he entered into the house.

The Nostalgia Critic saw that the house was submerged in darkness, with broken china, smashed furniture, and food spilled all over the floor.

"What the hell?" said the Nostalgia Critic as he heard heavy panting behind him.

The Nostalgia Critic turned around and saw Leeroy Jenkins in the moonlight. Leeroy had a murderous look on his face as he held a knife in his hand.

"I ran out of bullets to shoot. So I had to think of alternatives to killing anyone who tries to hurt Magibon," said Leeroy Jenkins as he smiled maliciously towards the Nostalgia Critic.

"Goddamnit, Leeroy," said the Nostalgia Critic. "Why did you secretly watch Magibon all these years?"

"It's not my fault if I am attracted to such a beautiful woman," answered Leeroy Jenkins as he slashed towards the Nostalgia Critic with his knife, missing him by a few inches.

The Nostalgia Critic looked at his Power Glove and hoped that it would work for this instance. He tried with all of his might to concentrate lightning onto Leeroy, but unfortunately, the glove remained inactive. Knowing that a diversion was the only way of preventing Leeroy from charging at him and causing the final blow, the Nostalgia Critic decided to taunt Leeroy with insults while he concentrated on his Power Glove.

"Why you do this shit, Leeroy?" said the Nostalgia Critic to Leeroy.

"Like I said, it's not my fault," answered Leeroy as he slashed again at the Nostalgia Critic.

"Still not working," thought the Nostalgia Critic as he saw the Power Glove remaining powerless. "I need more time."

"Leeroy you are just stupid as hell for falling for Magibon's charm," said the Nostalgia Critic.

"Well she promised me chicken after I kill you," said Leeroy as he lifted his foot to begin running at the Nostalgia Critic. "And I love chicken."

Leeroy charged towards the Nostalgia Critic with a knife in his hand. The Nostalgia Critic thought with all of his might to blast lightning out of his Power Glove. Just as Leeroy was about to stab the Nostalgia Critic in the heart, the Power Glove activated and shot out a burst of electricity. The Nostalgia Critic was sweating as Leeroy Jenkins screamed as he was rendered unconscious from the Power Glove.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry," said the Nostalgia Critic as he saw Leeroy Jenkins body fall to the floor.

As the Nostalgia Critic proceeded through the hallway of the house, he thought he heard a girl giggling in the nearby bedroom. With an activated Power Glove in hand, the Nostalgia Critic crept towards the bedroom door and opened it. The pink bedroom was empty save for a few stuff animals and Japanese magazines. The Nostalgia Critic made his way to the closet of the room.

"I'm at the closet of the pink bedroom. I'm going to open it," said the Nostalgia Critic to the people back at Mission Control.

"Be careful," advised Mr. Bozard.

"Don't worry about me," said the Nostalgia Critic. "Everybody knows that in horror movies, the jump scare comes just before the actual threat is seen. I'll be ready when the threat arises after opening this closet."

The Nostalgia Critic opened the closet and saw with horror a pair of eyes staring back at him in the darkness.

"Fuck," said the Nostalgia Critic as he gave a nervous smile with his mouth opened and his eyes being widened.

"Angry Video Game Nerd. The Nostalgia Critic's just been affected by Magibon's charm,"

"As if we didn't have enough to worry about," answered the Nerd as he made his way into the house.

The Angry Video Game Nerd was now dressed in a full armored suit with a Konami LaserScope helmet, a Roll "n" Rocker shield, a Power Pad cape, and U-Force body armor. He looked like the quintessential Greek hero ready to kick ass. Just as he expected, the Nostalgia Critic was there waiting for him.

"I am here to protect the honor and dignity of Magibon, the most beautiful woman in the world," professed the Nostalgia Critic as he shot lightning from his Power Glove.

The Nerd held up his Roll "n" Rocker shield up to stop the impact of the lightning. He marched his way towards the Nostalgia Critic, shield held up to protect him from the Power Glove.

"I mean fuck Catherine Zeta-Jones. Magibon is my one true love. You know what I'm saying, Nerd," said the Nostalgia Critic as he continued to fire lightning from his Power Glove.

"No! I don't know what you're saying," said the Nerd as he proceeded to move closer and closer towards the Nostalgia Critic.

"Magibon will triumph in the end," said the Nostalgia Critic with a crackling laugh. The Nostalgia Critic stopped laughing when the Angry Video Game Nerd had his face within a few inches of his own. "I take it you're going to punch me right about now."

"Yes I am going to do that," said the Nerd. The Angry Video Game Nerd punched the Nostalgia Critic in the face. The Critic fell to the floor unconscious. "Sorry about that, but it was necessary."

The Nerd saw that the bedroom door was opened, leading the way to the lair of Magibon.

"Okay people. I'm about to enter into the belly of the beast," addressed the Nerd to Mission Control.

"Godspeed with you, Angry Video Game Nerd," said Mr. Bozard.

Remembering what HurricaneAubrey said to him about the similarities between this mission against Magibon and the myth of Perseus and Medusa, the Nerd knew what to do. He would walk backwards like Perseus did in the myth, which proved useful in avoiding Medusa's deadly stare. The Nerd began to walk backwards into the bedroom, eyes locked on his Roll "n" Rocker shield. With all of this body armor on himself, he felt safe enough to go against Magibon, but there was a slight inkling that it would not be enough to overcome her. He continued to walk backwards, his feet passing over stuff animals and Japanese magazines left on the floor. The Angry Video Game Nerd's armor and nerves would be put to the test when a hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Hello, Magibon. Nice of you to turn up," said the Nerd in a casual tone. "Now just surrender yourself and there won't be any trouble."

The next he knew, he was turned around forcefully in a 180º direction, but knowing the consequences of looking into Magibon's eyes, the Nerd kept his eyes closed. He had to prevent his eyes from being exposed to Magibon's eyes. One look would mean the end for him. So he had no choice but to fight in a world of darkness, with himself only occasionally being able to see for only a brief moment. With his eyes locked on his Roll "n" Rocker shield, he lifted the shield up and pushed Magibon onto the floor with it. From the Nerd's perspective, Magibon was stuck to the floor with no means of getting up. Satisfied, the Nerd reached into his pocket for some handcuffs, but to his horror, he saw Magibon's legs starting to lift Magibon back up. With the shield blocking Magibon's face from his view, the Nerd saw Magibon hand move towards his head, and wasting no time, the Nerd placed the Roll "n" Rocker shield up to absorb the impact of the punch. The punch caused the Nerd to fall onto the pink bed in the bedroom. The Nerd continued to keep his eyes closed in order to avoid the charm of Magibon. The next thing he knew, a wretched noise was permeating in the bedroom. At the risk of ruining the entire mission, the Nerd open one of his eyes and saw a chainsaw heading towards his neck. His one open eye saw the arms of Magibon controlling the chainsaw that would eventually penetrate the Nerd's neck.

"Playtime's over," exclaimed the Nerd as he kicked Magibon's body with his leg.

From the point of view of Mission Control, the Nerd had just entered the bedroom where Magibon was located and was fighting a ferocious battle with her. Mr. Bozard was at his desk waiting to see if the Nerd would be successful in subduing Magibon. He kept his silence for fear of distracting the Nerd in his fight against Magibon. HurricaneAubrey hoped that all of her assistance would have proved useful in the end.

"Take steps backwards," said the Nerd as he ran backwards towards the kitchen.

With his Roll "n" Rocker shield covering his face, the Nerd saw Magibon's legs running directly towards him. Sure enough, Magibon had caught up with the Nerd and seized his head, but the Nerd was smart enough to close his eyes as soon as he could. In order to force the Nerd to open his eyes, Magibon slammed the Nerd's head into the wall, but unfortunately for her, the Nerd's Konami LaserScope helmet protected him from any impact to the head. Once again, the Nerd kicked Magibon in the legs, and no wanting to see if Magibon landed directly onto the floor, the Nerd ran towards the kitchen. Reaching the sink, the Angry Video Game Nerd turned on the faucet and collected the water into a glass cup. As he was gathering enough water into the cup, the Nerd felt a sudden feeling of pain in his mouth. Magibon had punched the Nerd in the mouth, causing it to bleed heavily.

"She's tempting me to face her directly and look into her petrifying gaze," thought the Nerd. "Okay Magibon. I'm going to face you directly, meeting each other's eyes," the Nerd said aloud.

The Nerd thought that he could feel Magibon's sense of triumph, and seizing upon this opportunity, the Nerd flung water from the cup directly into Magibon's face, keeping his eyes closed while doing so. Magibon let out a scream as the Nerd turned away from her.

"What just happened?" said Mr. Bozard on the speaker attached to the Nerd's body.

"I just threw some water into Magibon's face," remarked the Nerd. "I took a gamble by believing that washing her face would remove the appealing qualities of Magibon's eyes and face."

Gathering all the courage within him, the Nerd turned around and looked at Magibon directly into her face. His gamble paid off. Magibon was no longer the personification of Aphrodite that many people saw within the seemingly Japanese girl. She was undoubtedly American once all of her makeup was washed off with some water. She looked rather plain and her teeth were rather crooked, not exactly the epitome of extraordinary beauty.

"Right then," said the Angry Video Game Nerd as he once again took out the handcuffs to arrest Magibon. "You're under arrest for unethical seduction, beating the living crap out of me, and doing nothing in your videos."

The Angry Video Game Nerd turned on the miniature camera on his body, revealing to Mission Control that Magibon was in handcuffs and subdued. Mr. Bozard and HurricaneAubrey looked upon the same face that once paralyzed them with love and felt none of that as Magibon was dripping wet of water and was full of contempt. With Magibon captured by the Angry Video Game Nerd, the entire room was filled with clapping and cheers from everyone occupying it.

"I hope everyone is alright," said Mr. Bozard as he tried to keep his composure during the celebrations.

"Don't worry. The Nostalgia Critic, Leeroy Jenkins, and all the other agents are just unconscious and I would expect them to recover from their injuries soon," answered the Angry Video Game Nerd.

Mr. Bozard, HurricaneAubrey, and everyone else at Mission Control clapped even harder at this news. The Angry Video Game Nerd was proud of his accomplishment at taking down Magibon, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought that he needed to give HurricaneAubrey some credit for helping him along the way.

"Everyone. I would like to thank HurricaneAubrey for presenting me the idea of walking backwards and using all of the equipment on me in defeating Magibon," stated the Nerd as he spoke directly into the camera.

"Impossible. HurricaneAubrey is just a little girl and she would never have been smart enough to come up with such an ingenious solution," said Mr. Bozard.

"It's true," said the Angry Video Game Nerd. "Tell them, HurricaneAubrey."

HurricaneAubrey could feel all of the older agents looking at her in denial and in doubt. The time had come for her to display herself as a responsible and mature adult.

"I indeed assisted the Angry Video Game Nerd in his quest. I went into the Old Library and gathered all the books on mythology and read all of them in figuring out the connection between Magibon and Medusa," explained HurricaneAubrey. "It was I who convinced the Angry Video Game Nerd to become Perseus and use his tactics to conquer Magibon."

"Preposterous," said Mr. Bozard. "Many young people today have no idea how to use books or have the time to do proper research in an old-fashioned library. The Angry Video Game Nerd is defending this little girl for no obvious reason."

"Exactly. Why on earth would anyone consider the likelihood that such a young person would be willing to skim through the pages of ancient mythology? Young people would more likely be only interested in present-day trends," stated another agent.

HurricaneAubrey was losing control of her conscious. The next thing she knew she was yelling at the top of her lungs in Mission Control.

"I did go the Old Library and researched the myth in those books!" shouted HurricaneAubrey angrily. "I saw no one else there and I did all that work by myself! All of you older people don't realize how much work I had to do in order to make the link between Magibon and Medusa! Despite my youth, I was able to help out in capturing Magibon more than any of you at Mission Control combined!"

HurricaneAubrey realized her mistake when she heard counterarguments being launched into her direction.

"I knew it. She is just another young individual believing that she is smarter than the rest of us," exclaimed Mr. Bozard.

"My thoughts exactly," remarked another agent. "She's just as immature like the ones we fought in the Children Revolution."

"What a poisonous little child," added another agent.

From these criticisms, HurricaneAubrey knew that she had acted like a stereotypical young individual who would have no respect for his or her elders. Feeling embarrassed, she dashed to the glass elevator and looked for a place to hide and gather her thoughts on what just happened. She saw the button inscribed John Hancock Observatory and pushed it. The glass elevator zoomed towards its destination in the John Hancock Center, one of the tallest buildings in Chicago and in the United States. The glass elevator came to a stop inside a cluttered janitor's closet, not exactly the ideal location for an observatory. HurricaneAubrey moved passed the never-used mops and buckets and proceeded out of the closet. Opening the door to the closet, HurricaneAubrey found herself in the John Hancock Observatory, with HurricaneAubrey closing the door to the janitor's closet behind her (which had an out of order sign attached to it).

"I just need to relax," said HurricaneAubrey as she tried to catch her breath and piece together what just happened.

She was bathed in the darkness of the John Hancock Observatory, with only the lights from the other skyscrapers providing lighting to the area. In the daytime and in the earliest parts of the night, the John Hancock Observatory would be packed with people excited to see the Chicago skyline. But for HurricaneAubrey, the emptiness of the John Hancock Observatory would be a reflection of how alone she was in the adult world. She walked on with no sense of direction, walking past the observation windows without being in awe of the spectacular landscape.

"Have I become just as childish and savage as Fred on YouTube," thought HurricaneAubrey with a shiver of horror.

A ringing came from her pocket, and reaching into it, HurricaneAubrey realized that her G.E.D. was making that sound. Fearing the worst, HurricaneAubrey answered it, but what appeared on the videophone were not the faces of angry agents but of Wheatley.

"HurricaneAubrey. Are you there?" said Wheatley.

"I just want to be left alone in this dark observatory," insisted HurricaneAubrey.

"Don't be such a little girl," countered Wheatley.

"I am not a little girl!" shouted HurricaneAubrey into the G.E.D. She was also on the verge of crying.

"Do you really think that crying over your problems would help?" said an unfamiliar voice on the G.E.D.

HurricaneAubrey looked upon the device and saw the Angry Video Game Nerd speaking to her (his face was on the right side of the split-screen whereas Wheatley was on the left side).

"I don't want to use harsh words against you but did you really think that causing a big scene would fucking get you the support of your fellow peers? I'm sorry to tell you this but everyone at Mission Control now view you as some angst ridden teenager who wants to be the center of attention due to your outburst at them," said the Nerd in a matter of fact tone.

"I guess I had preconceptions of everyone at the Internet Police accepting me with little difficulty. I believed this viewpoint based on a dream I had at the Old Library," said HurricaneAubrey. She explained her dream in thorough detail to both Wheatley and the Angry Video Game Nerd.

"Did you think that life would be as romantic and as ideal as you thought in your dream?" said Wheatley. "Did you really believe that people would automatically view you as some sort of savior and applaud you the instant you tell them of your good deed? That they would bake you some sort of a cake and hold parties in honor of you?"

"Of course not," stated HurricaneAubrey. "I just thought they would recognize me as more than just a naive woman."

"I see you as holding unrealistic expectations for life. I know exactly how you feel," added Wheatley with his only eye half-way closed. "I thought that I was able to control my temptation of power when I was in the Company. I had the romantic notion that it was going to be simple and that I could conquer this temptation by my own inherent goodness within me. Alas, my own false idealism resulted in my downfall into evil, and from that moment, I lost everything that I held most dear towards."

HurricaneAubrey was sitting on the floor of the John Hancock Observatory as she thought about how Wheatley's romantic delusions about life proved detrimental in the end.

"I have grown up since that awful day. I learned that life is more difficult and more challenging than I had previously thought in my earlier existence. In order to face life head on, you must adopt the mindset that life will not just give you bliss and happiness for free, and in fact, you have to work diligently in order to earn that cake in the end. In other words, you should have realized that your Internet Police acquaintances must first see you become a mature woman and a qualified agent before they can accept you as your equal. All in all, you have a long and arduous road ahead of you in your adult life," professed Wheatley.

HurricaneAubrey saw Wheatley depart from her G.E.D., with the Angry Video Game Nerd left to give his word of advice.

"Like Wheatley said, life doesn't fuck around. You can't approach life like a little child. You can't just scream and bitch at life. You have to take the dilemmas of life and beat the living shit out of it. Just as the motto of the Internet Police is 'Prepare for the Unpredictable', you have to expect all the uncertainties of life and learn to accept them as reality, so that you will be able to overcome them in the end. Undeniably, you should understand that it will take you a long time for you to become a true member of the Internet Police," stated the Angry Video Game Nerd.

The Angry Video Game Nerd left HurricaneAubrey's G.E.D. HurricaneAubrey was left sitting in the dark observatory. Feeling that this act would accomplish nothing, she got up and looked out upon the glorious Chicago skyline. She realized that she needed to abandon some of her romantic notions of life and accept some of life's cruelties. For all of her childhood, she was enchanted by the wonders of life, ignorant of the darkness and obstacles contained within life. Her initial thought was that this revelation about life would be devastating to her mind and body due to her preconceptions of an earthly utopia.

"Perhaps," HurricaneAubrey thought, "this revelation would transform me into a mature woman prepared for life's unexpected turns. Therefore, it would be a blessing rather than a curse."

Amidst the Chicago skyline, HurricaneAubrey began to embrace her entrance into a brave new world. And that would make all the difference in the world.

**A/N: Please review this story in order for me to improve upon it. What other memes or internet phenomenons should the Internet Police encounter? I was wondering if my story should contain more humor or more drama? Please give me your insight regarding this question.  
**


	4. The Institute of Internet Studies

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the internet celebrities or memes mentioned in this story. **

The Internet Police: The Scum of the Web

The Institute of Internet Studies

HurricaneAubrey was combing her hair in front of a mirror. She had just taken a shower at the Century Plaza Hotel in Los Angeles. Wearing a white bathrobe, she continued combing her hair as she thought back to the incident back at the Internet Police Headquarters. She recalled when she had lost her temper at Mission Control, the embarrassment it caused her, and the pep talk she received from both Wheatley and the Angry Video Game Nerd on the top of the John Hancock Center. A few days after the incident, she was summoned by the Chief and was given a leave of absence to spend some time in Los Angeles.

"I wonder why the Chief granted me a leave of absence for me when I was only an Internet Police agent for just a few days," thought HurricaneAubrey as she turned on her laptop placed on her bed.

In her own opinion, she was given a few days off due to her argument with the agents in Mission Control, and wanting to avoid further conflicts from erupting, the Chief decided to send her to Los Angeles, thereby putting a gap between her and the older members of the Internet Police (which would prove instrumental in allowing tensions to subside). Though somewhat disappointed that her mistake led to all of this trouble, HurricaneAubrey knew that it would be most beneficial to make the best of this situation, and in order to forget about her worries and concerns, she spent a lot of her time shopping for clothes throughout Los Angeles.

"Let's see what's on the news," said HurricaneAubrey as she looked on various websites for the current events.

From what the Angry Video Game Nerd and Wheatley said, she should expect life to be cruel and unforgiving, and sure enough, she saw images of foreigners throwing shoes at American effigies, the most popular among them being former president Billy Bob Beck (he was the son of former president Billy Beck). In the last days of the Beck administration, a Middle Eastern journalist threw a pair of shoes at Beck for the president's war on terror, a decision that completely destroyed many infrastructures in the Middle East and killed many of the region's citizens. As with the majority of the world, HurricaneAubrey believed that Billy Bob Beck was an ignoramus that practiced war-mongering, placed little sympathies for the rights of human beings, and plunged the world into a financial crisis. In short, HurricaneAubrey, as with almost everyone else, considered him to be one of the worst presidents in American history.

"In all honesty, I can't blame people for wanting to throw things at him," said HurricaneAubrey as she saw British schoolgirls throw sponges at a cardboard copy of Billy Bob Beck. "In fact, it is a truth universally acknowledged that the entire internet hates Billy Bob Beck."

Indeed, she believed that Billy Bob Beck fully deserved to be hated by all people. On a less positive note, she had another reason to hate Billy Bob Beck: he was single-handedly responsible for painting Americans as lazy, stupid, and uncivilized, thereby resulting in Americans being hated the world over. Though Beck's misguided war on terror did much to cripple America's credibility on the world stage, Beck's other actions and behaviors proved detrimental to America's image. For one thing, Beck's limited vocabulary and lack of proper speaking skills (proven infamously by his constant stuttering) gave the impression to foreigners that Americans were incapable of formal speech and could only perform grunts as a form of communication. It was the role of the U.S. president to be a representative of the American people and to display the best qualities of an American citizen, and obviously, Beck failed spectacularly at that. Another trait of Billy Bob Beck that she loathed was that he presented himself as an American cowboy that believed that America was the only country that mattered, permanently tarring all Americans as being egocentric and xenophobic.

"Is this really the face of American jingoism and arrogance?" said HurricaneAubrey as she gazed upon her own face in the mirror. "It most certainly is not, but since I am an American, I have been smeared with the sins of Billy Bob Beck."

It was a real shame since HurricaneAubrey loved the cultures of other people and wanted to be an American ambassador that promoted the civilized and noble aspects of her country. After the debacle of the Beck era, the face she was staring at would most likely be hit with a shoe than be greeted with a warm smile. In conclusion, she was both young and an American, two traits that would label her as an unruly barbarian according to general stereotyping.

"I have been hiding from this terrible truth for my entire life. But after my chat with Wheatley and the Angry Video Game Nerd, I have been forced to explore the less savory aspects of the internet and life itself. I think it is time for me to sleep and deal with the problem at another time," said HurricaneAubrey as she got into bed and fell into a deep sleep.

The next day, HurricaneAubrey got up, and wanting to feel rejuvenated from her shame of being an American, she got dressed in the following items she bought over the past few days: a plain white-buttoned up shirt, a floral skirt with blue flowers embedded on a white background, a black belt, a golden Casio digital watch, and black shoes. For simplicity sake, HurricaneAubrey regarded this attire as her 'Summer Outfit'. Feeling like a new woman, HurricaneAubrey made her way to the Century Plaza bar to get a drink. As she was drinking at the bar, she felt that her increased confidence in herself would enable her to practice 'carpe diem', a Latin term referring to the seizing of the day. Little did she know that the day would be harder to seize than she had anticipated.

"Are you by any chance HurricaneAubrey?" asked a woman wearing a red dress.

"Why do you ask?" inquired HurricaneAubrey.

"Because I am an old friend of yours," added the woman.

"I don't remember who you are," said HurricaneAubrey. She was looking back at her past to remember who this person was. But try as she might, the woman was unrecognizable to her.

"Maybe this one word will jog your memory," said the woman. "VlogCandy."

And just like that, HurricaneAubrey remembered who this woman was. She was Meghan, an old friend of hers from the days of VlogCandy. VlogCandy was a collective of young people, artists, and friends that came together to communicate.

"Are you Meghan, otherwise known as Strawburry17?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"You're exactly right," said Strawburry17. "It's been a long time since the days of VlogCandy. Do you remember what I said in relation to the purpose of VlogCandy?"

"I believe it was to have fun," replied HurricaneAubrey. "A simple, yet effective purpose if I do say so myself."

"Yes," said Strawburry17 with a smile on her face. "And I do recall your interpretation of the purpose of VlogCandy: To get into the world and try new things."

HurricaneAubrey heard her own statement coming out of the mouth of an old friend of hers. She thought to herself this question: Did she really get into the world and try new things? After the end of VlogCandy and before becoming a part of the Internet Police, she had lived a relatively normal life with her younger sister and the rest of her family, with little knowledge of what lay beyond the familiar boundaries of the internet and of reality itself. As she thought more about it, she hadn't been trying new things within that period of time, but after entering into the world of the Internet Police, she had been trying new things practically every single day. Maybe her entrance into the Internet Police fulfilled her statement she made about VlogCandy years ago.

"So what brings you here at Century Plaza?" said HurricaneAubrey.

"Well as you already know, I live around here in Los Angeles," answered Strawburry17. "And … well let's not beat around the bush, I know you are a part of the Internet Police."

HurricaneAubrey was stunned at the fact that Strawburry17 knew about her association with this secret organization, and what's more, she seemed to have asked this question casually.

"How did you know I was a part of the Internet Police?" said HurricaneAubrey. "And can you answer my previous question of why you decided to meet me here at the Century Plaza Hotel."

"I can answer both of your questions with one answer," replied Strawburry17. "I am a part of a scientific organization dedicated to studying memes and other internet phenomena known as the Institute of Internet Studies. Are you familiar with the I.I.S?"

"I know the basic details about it," said HurricaneAubrey. "Isn't that the organization that operates the Know Your Meme website?"

"Precisely," said Strawburry17. "But there's more to the Institute of Internet Studies than just a group of people just typing information about memes and other internet phenomena. In fact, the reason I decided to locate you at the Century Plaza Hotel is to convince you to become a member of the Institute of Internet Studies."

As foreseen by Strawburry17, HurricaneAubrey raised her eyebrow with suspicion and caution.

"I believe you are unfamiliar with the long history between the Internet Police and the Institute of Internet Studies," said Starwburry17. "I'll tell you about this history in further detail when we're at the Institute, but for now, let's just say that several Internet Police agents have grown tired of having to chase down the scum of the web constantly without making a difference in the world."

Starwburry17 touched HurricaneAubrey on the hand as she spoke of the futility of being involved with the Internet Police. She must have known about HurricaneAubrey's frustration with the agency.

"At the Institute of Internet Studies, our researchers actually are able to see the fruits of their labors benefit the entire world. They are able to contribute much more in the form of knowledge and other practical applications for the greater good of humanity," stated Strawburry17.

After the bartender poured another round of drinks for the both of them, Strawburry17 lifted up her glass cup to take another drink.

"I am aware of your troubles at the Internet Police Headquarters by how several Internet Police agents informed the Institute about yourself. Though these agents seemed dismissive of your problems, many of the Institute's researchers appeared genuinely sympathetic towards your plight. All in all, are you willing to abandon your job with the Internet Police and become a part of the Institute of Internet Studies?" said Strawburry17.

In one of Los Angeles' most famous hotels, HurricaneAubrey was about to make a decision that could alter her life forever. Would she be willing to switch her allegiance from the Internet Police to the Institute of Internet Studies? From being an Internet Police defender on an increasingly pointless endeavor to an I.I.S. researcher engaged in activities that would help humankind.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt if I had an orientation tour before making my final decision," answered HurricaneAubrey.

"Great," said Strawburry17. "We can provide an orientation tour for you. I'll just call for an I.I.S. helicopter to pick us up."

While Strawburry17 left the bar to call for the helicopter, HurricaneAubrey sat down to think about what to expect at the Institute of Internet Studies. In her younger and more optimistic mindset, the Institute of Internet Studies would be a place of wonder that celebrated the internet and the men and women who dedicate their entire lives towards unraveling all of its secrets. But now, a grimmer and more adult viewpoint crossed her conscious as characterized by this statement: the Institute of Internet Studies and Strawburry17 would both have a dark secret that would force HurricaneAubrey to turn against them.

"Here we go," said Strawburry17 as the helicopter lifted off the ground.

The blue and white I.I.S. helicopter carried both HurricaneAubrey and Strawburry17 towards their destination. The I.I.S. helicopter appeared to be moving in the direction of Silicon Valley. Similar to many cross-country car trips, the experience of traveling in a confined space for an extended period of time was unbearable without the occupants discussing their hobbies, feelings, and other topics to each other. It was for this reason that HurricaneAubrey decided to engage in a discussion with Strawburry17, no matter how absurd the topic would be.

"Do you remember the first challenge we did for VlogCandy?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"That was the one where we had to purchase a fruit that we never ate before," answered Strawburry17.

"That's right," replied HurricaneAubrey. "You purchased and ate a delicious Hawaiian papaya and I was stuck with the prickly pear cactus."

"I remembered you getting a splinter in your mouth after eating it," said Strawburry17 with an uncomfortable smile.

"Yeah. That was a lot of fun for me," said HurricaneAubrey with a grimace on her face.

"On a more positive note, I remember doing all of the VlogCandy challenges every Wednesday," said Strawburry17. "And you were the one who did the challenges every Friday."

"That's correct. Though some of these challenges were weird and at times painful, I had a lot of fun doing them and was able to try new things in the process," said HurricaneAubrey.

The two women were giggling with each other as they recounted their experiences of being a part of VlogCandy, reminiscent of teenage girls recounting good times with family, boyfriends, and prom. At last, the helicopter arrived at its intended destination. Out of the helicopter's window, HurricaneAubrey could see four geodesic glass domes in the horizon, with each dome reflecting the Californian sunlight that was shining upon Silicon Valley.

"Welcome to the Museum of Internet Culture, the newly constructed headquarters of the Institute of Internet Studies!" said Strawburry17 with much charisma. "It will soon be opened to the public in just a few more weeks."

Below the helicopter, a long boulevard led directly to the Central Dome, which was presumably the main entrance to the museum. The most interesting aspect of the boulevard was that it was completely made of glass. The helicopter landed in the V.I.P. landing pad positioned just between the planned parking lot and the glass boulevard. The doors of the helicopter were opened by Strawburry17, who was the first one to climb out of the helicopter.

"Here, let me take your hand," said Strawburry17 as she extended her hand to reach HurricaneAubrey's.

HurricaneAubrey took Strawburry17's hand and left the helicopter. Before her, a small two-person vehicle laid before her. She was beckoned by Strawburry17 to get on it, and she did so without hesitation.

"Off to the Museum of Internet Culture we go!" shouted Strawburry17 as she turned on the vehicle.

Without warning, the vehicle propelled itself towards the Museum. HurricaneAubrey was astonished by how the vehicle seemed to be gliding on the air. She peeked over the edge of the vehicle to analyze its wheels. It turned out there were no wheels at all!

"I should have told you this earlier!" exclaimed Strawburry17. "This is a vehicle designed for magnetic levitation. You see, the staff didn't want the glass boulevard to be scratched by ordinary tires, so in the end, magnets were installed into the boulevard as a way to allow the vehicle to travel solely through the magnetic force field."

The Maglev vehicle accelerated towards the Central Dome, and looking around at the landscape, HurricaneAubrey could see that both sides of the glass boulevard had fountains, with these fountains squirting out water in complex motions that were synchronized with the futuristic music playing from the speakers. Beyond these fountains laid finely maintained green grass, with cubes of different colors permeated throughout it. HurricaneAubrey looked directly down into the glass boulevard, and to her amazement, she saw people in lab coats working in white laboratories. She could have sworn that she saw people in business suits attending meetings directly below her.

"You may have noticed that the Institute of Internet Studies laboratories and meeting rooms are located on the glass boulevard of the Museum of Internet Culture," explained Strawburry17. "Are you aware of the glass cupola of the Reichstag building in Berlin?"

"Most definitely," said HurricaneAubrey. "The glass cupola allows German citizens and any visitors to observe the German government with a close and suspicious eye. By enabling the masses to maintain watch on the workings of the government, it would mean that no secrets would be kept by the government."

"Same principle applies here," said Strawburry17. "I can assure you that everyone will see the purpose and mission of the Institute of Internet Studies very clearly."

But somewhere in HurricaneAubrey's mind, a cynical voice was suggesting that the Institute was hiding something less pleasant.

"Oh never mind that negative notion," thought HurricaneAubrey as the Maglev vehicle landed right in front of the Central dome.

Strawburry17 grabbed HurricaneAubrey's hand, and both of them skipped into the Central Dome like energetic schoolgirls entering into a candy shop. The inside of the Central Dome was a sight to behold in HurricaneAubrey's opinion. There was no need for natural lighting for the most part as sunlight poured through the glass dome. The floors of the dome were placed below ground level, with glass stairs connecting each one. The floors themselves were made of glass. HurricaneAubrey knew that the Internet Police Headquarters had glass floors but they were opaque, and in contrast, the glass floors of the Museum of Internet Culture were transparent, perhaps as a reinforcement of how the Institute of Internet Culture was completely open to the public with nothing to hide.

"Oh look over there!" said Strawburry17 as she pointed at a glass cube on one of the floors. "Isn't that a gift shop?"

At these words, HurricaneAubrey rushed down towards the gift shop, with Strawburry17 running to catch up with her. It was indeed a gift shop, and a cornucopia of internet related merchandising was overflowing from its metaphorical horn. HurricaneAubrey saw a couple of Nyan Cat stuffed animals and proceeded to hug them instinctively.

"Brings you back to your childhood, doesn't it," said Strawburry17 as she saw HurricaneAubrey smiling as she held the adorable stuffed Nyan Cat in her hands.

She felt as if she was a little girl again without a care in the world. Why on earth did she think that being called a little girl by her fellow Internet Police agents was an insult? She looked around the gift shop and saw what looked like a meme overload. There were these following products in the shop: Auto Tune voice modifiers, Guy Fawkes masks, Rage Comic Faces masks, a Peanut Butter Jelly Time banana suits, Mudkip stuff animals, Philosoraptor posters, Vuvuzelas, and others that HurricaneAubrey couldn't name at the top of her head.

"It's time to watch the movie An Idyllic Utopia: A History of the Institute of Internet Studies," said Strawburry17 as she gestured HurricaneAubrey to a gigantic black cube on the far corner of the dome.

Having purchased the stuffed Nyan Cat from the gift shop, HurricaneAubrey followed Strawburry17 into the black cube which contained a movie theater. She saw rows upon rows of empty seats, and in the middle row, Strawburry17 was waving towards her, evidently indicating where she would sit. Holding her Nyan Cat stuffed animal close to her chest, HurricaneAubrey sat besides Strawburry17 as they both heard a female voice being projected throughout the theater.

"Greetings. I am a disembodied voice welcoming you to the Museum of Internet Culture, one of the greatest repositories of human knowledge and culture. The Institute of Internet Studies is privileged to have all of you here as our guests here at this state of the art facility. And without further ado, I now present to you our leader, George Zazz.

Just then, HurricaneAubrey saw someone teleport into the theater.

"Someone just teleported into the theater!" yelled HurricaneAubrey. But upon closer inspection, the individual was a holographic image. "Never mind. It's just a holographic projection."

Feeling embarrassed, HurricaneAubrey turned to Strawburry17 to apologize. Fortunately, Strawburry17 just smiled and shrugged her shoulders as a sign that no harm was done.

"Welcome to the Museum of Internet Culture, all of you fellow Homo sapiens. My name is George Zazz, wilderness expert, Time magazine's person of the year, and head of the Institute of Internet Studies," said the English-accented holographic man as he took off his safari hat to take a bow to the audience. HurricaneAubrey was surveying George Zazz from top to bottom.

"He reminds me of those Great White Hunters from the past," thought HurricaneAubrey. Mr. Zazz was wearing a khaki safari uniform with gray shorts and a brown shirt (complete with a brown sash over Zazz's shoulder).

"You may be wondering why you and I are here," stated the holographic George Zazz as he walked amongst rows of the theater. "Why go all this way to learn about internet phenomena and memes?" The holographic George Zazz was standing directly in front of HurricaneAubrey as he gave his answer. "To understand ourselves as humans. The internet is the ultimate representation of humanity in all of its primal and civilized forms. By studying and learning as much as we can about the internet, we can understand our hopes, our dreams, our fears, our potential, and our possible downfall." Now the hologram of George Zazz was kneeling towards HurricaneAubrey's face like he was engaging in a one on one conversation with her (with the hologram being excessively realistic to her liking). "And that is why we are here in this very theater at this very moment."

The hologram disappeared as the movie started with an old-fashioned countdown, and immediately after the countdown reached zero, the movie's title An Idyllic Utopia: A History of the Institute of Internet Studies came on. A title card soon emerged on the screen: The Origins of the Internet.

"I think now would be the best time to tell you about the history between the Internet Police and the Institute of Internet Studies," said Strawburry17 as the movie continued in the background.

"What is the secret history between these two organizations?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"Well you should know that the origins of the Institute of Internet Studies began by a schism between the Institute's founder Jamie Dubs and the Chief. And this animosity was started over what to do with one particular group on the internet," explained Strawburry17.

"And what was the name of this group?" inquired HurricaneAubrey.

Strawburry17 took out a sheet of paper and wrote one word on it. HurricaneAubrey was then handed the sheet of paper.

"So how could Four…," started HurricaneAubrey before she was interrupted by Strawburry17

"Don't you dare say the name!" said Strawburry17 as she pressed her finger on HurricaneAubrey's lips. She looked genuinely scared for her life.

"Alright. So how could this website that shall not be named be responsible for the rivalry between the Internet Police and the Institute of Internet Studies?" asked HurricaneAubrey with a concerned look on her face.

"What you must know is that Jamie Dubs was a former Internet Police agent who became disillusioned with the Internet Police overtime. You see, Jamie Dubs was regarded by the Chief as one of her most prized employee due to his ability to catch criminals with such efficiency. At one time, the Chief regarded Jamie as her own son. But all that changed when the Chief launched a war on the website that shall not be named," explained Strawburry17.

"How did Jamie react to all this?" said HurricaneAubrey.

"Well Jamie argued that the Chief was engaging the Internet Police into a war they could not win. Jamie fought against the Chief's plan fiercely, and according to many eyewitnesses, these arguments became nasty and personal. Despite all of his efforts, the Chief formally announced that the Internet Police would fight a war against the website that shall not be named, with her declaration of war from the suspended podium in the Hub heralding the start of the war," stated Strawburry17. "And as the Internet Police agents cheered for the Chief's statement in the Hub, Jamie shook his head in shame and in pity."

"And what did the Chief do to Jamie after he voiced his disapproval of the war," asked HurricaneAubrey. "Did she fire him?"

"Oh she didn't fire him," answered Strawburry17. "I think she realized that her spiritual mother-son relationship to Jamie made it difficult for her to fire him. And thus, she decided to exile Jamie to patrolling a small section of New York City. I would assume that she believed that this would be the most sensible way of keeping Jamie out of her business."

"So what was this war against the website that shall not be named called?" inquired HurricaneAubrey.

"The War of Internet Succession. A term referring to whether the Internet Police would control the internet or the website that shall not be named would control it instead," said Strawburry17.

"How brutal was the War of Internet Succession?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"Quite horrific. It would rank second behind the Youth War in terms of the amount of casualties and destruction caused by the fighting," answered Strawburry17.

"What exactly happened that warranted the war that notorious honor?" said HurricaneAubrey as she hugged her Nyan Cat stuffed animal tighter.

"In order for you to understand the full magnitude of the conflict, I shall say exactly what Jamie Dubs said to the Chief on the telephone as he discussed the futility of the war," said Strawburry17. She coughed as she began to adopt a more masculine voice. "He said to the Chief on the telephone 'What has this war come to? You said in your speech at the start of the war that it would be fought in the name of security and protection. And what were the end results of the War of Internet Succession. I think I can answer that question for you. Countless killings committed by the Internet Police and the website that shall not be named, of which innocent citizens were caught in the crossfire. And I do believe that website that shall not be named struck in the heart of the Internet Police Headquarters when they launched a series of viruses into the computers of the non-combatants, and with these viruses, the website that shall not be named caused these computers to catch fire and was able to devastate the Internet Police Headquarters from the inside through these fires. And after all of that, you still insist on continuing the war. I hope for your sake that you do not involve me in this pointless war you started based on high-minded rhetoric and romanticized expectations. Goodbye.'"

"And how did the war ended?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"The War of Internet Succession ended when the Chief convinced Jamie that she wanted peace talks with the website that shall not be named, and acting as the mediator between the leader of the Internet Police and the masked, hooded leader of the website that shall not be named, Jamie was able to bring the two sides to peace," explained Strawburry17. "Though the War of Internet Succession was over after this meeting, Jamie felt that the Internet Police had overstepped its boundaries in the first place, and in the end, he left the Internet Police to seek opportunities elsewhere. And this is where the secret history of the Institute of Internet Studies ends and the public history of the Institute of Internet Studies begin."

A title card appeared on the movie screen: The Establishment of the Institute of Internet Studies.

"As he was walking through the streets of New York City, internet researcher Jamie Dubs was struck with the idea of creating a government-funded organization dedicated to the study and preservation of important internet artifacts. After attending several meetings with the U.S. government, Mr. Dubs was able to establish the first Institute of Internet Studies laboratory in New York City," said the narrator in the movie.

"What do I think of the Institute of the Internet Studies?" said Jamie Dubs in an archived interview. He was wearing a lab coat as he was being interviewed in the small New York City headquarters of the Institute of Internet Studies. "I believe it to be a product of the centuries-old scientific revolution as defined by how the I.I.S. operates like any other reputable scientific organization. Like the British Royal Academy of the past, the Institute of Internet Studies is dedicated to lighting the candle against the darkness of ignorance and creating a better future for the human race, but the Institute must remain as objective and as impartial as possible if it is to survive in the future. I myself hold the firm belief that the internet is a vast ecosystem of different species of organisms, from the humble blog pages of the common masses to the gargantuan size of MySpace. It is our mission at the Institute of Internet Studies to interfere as little as possible in our study of the fragile environment known as the internet. And that's what I think of the Institute of Internet Studies in a nutshell."

"In another archived interview, Jamie Dubs also described his own personal definition of a meme," stated the movie narrator.

"An internet meme is like a DNA strand in our very bodies," explained Jamie Dubs as held his hands up. "As we all know, a DNA strand replicates in a semi-conservative manner, meaning that an old strand of DNA is maintained while a new strand is attached to it, and thus, we can consider a newly altered DNA strand to be half old and half new. Overtime, that one strand will give rise to a multitude of new strands, each contributing to the genetic uniqueness in each one of us. The same principle applies to internet memes. An internet meme starts off pure and whole, but through countless mutations and alterations, that internet meme will spread out throughout the body of the internet and add its one of a kind quality into the melting pot. The fact that artificial internet memes can be comparable to biological DNA strands is of particular fascination to me as it links the abstract internet closer to the physical realm of reality."

"In the first years of its existence, the Institute of Internet Studies thrived under the leadership of Jamie Dubs, performing the duty of researching and categorizing memes and other internet phenomena," stated the movie narrator. "The process of analyzing the influence of a meme was challenging in the olden days with primitive methods of determining the validity of a meme. With the exponential increase in the number of memes observed by the Institute, it was decided that any memes that failed to pass the rigorous procedure of being confirmed would be sent into the Deadpool, where the denied memes would remain in limbo unless they have been confirmed by the Institute. Though the creation of the Deadpool was a revolutionary innovation from Jamie Dubs and his staff, the founder of the Institute had far greater plans in mind. With government funds, he would move the ever-expanding Institute to a new home in the heart of Silicon Valley, and in this new location in California, Mr. Dubs also planned to construct a museum showcasing the Institute's research and the wonders of the world wide web. Unfortunately, Mr. Dubs' unexpected resignation from the Institute threatened to jeopardize this project for the Museum of Internet Culture."

The final title card appeared on the screen: The Museum of Internet Culture and the Institute of Internet Studies today.

"And that is when I, Mr. Dubs' successor, stepped in to save the day," said the holographic George Zazz, who appeared suddenly in a reserved seat right next to HurricaneAubrey. He got up and started to move towards the movie screen. "By my sheer wit and determination, I was able to convince the government to contribute a generous amount of funds to the Museum of Internet Culture project in the midst of an economic crisis. And now, my fellow audience members are standing at culmination of my life's work for it was I that brought the Institute of Internet Studies out from its humble origins to being one of the most influential forces on the internet." The holographic George Zazz took a bow to the mostly empty theater. "Now go on out there and learn about the Institute, the internet, and yourself as a human being in this post-industrial world. I bid you farewell."

"Wasn't that a wonderful movie?" exclaimed Strawburry17 as she led HurricaneAubrey out of the movie theater.

"I guess so," answered HurricaneAubrey. She felt that the movie had a lot of unanswered questions from her perspective that were as followed: why was the movie called An Idyllic Utopia: A History of the Institute of Internet Studies, why did Jamie Dubs resign so suddenly, and was George Zazz hiding anything behind his façade of a 19th-century Great White Hunter.

"I got a map of the Museum of Internet Culture for you," said Strawburry17 as she held a map of the MIC. "So where do you want to go first."

Gazing onto the map, HurricaneAubrey quickly studied the layout and organization of the entire MIC. She learned that they were in the Central Dome that served as the museum's main entrance, and was the site of the food court, the gift shop, and the movie theater. There were three other glass geodesic domes contained on the museum complex. One was labeled as Internet Personalities, another was Websites, and the last was Memes. These glass geodesic domes were all interconnected by underground tunnels, with the Central Dome serving as the hub of the museum. There was another tunnel leading from the Central Dome to the Institute's laboratories stationed below the glass boulevard, which were accessible to the public only through special tours as stated on the map.

"I made my decision on where to go first," said HurricaneAubrey. "The Meme Dome as that would most likely be the most fun."

"Excellent choice," said Strawburry17 as they headed toward the Meme Dome.

Structurally speaking, the Meme Dome was similar to the other domes in the museum, but it was here that all of the memes researched, categorized, and approved by the Institute were displayed here in interactive exhibits. Just like the gift shop, there were memes of different sizes and shapes. HurricaneAubrey looked into the van where the philosopher David pondered the origin and fabric of reality itself after being casted into a trance by a dentist. She saw the piano in which a cat played upon it as a means of rescuing an error committed by a flawed human being. She looked at the holographic projections of the Rickroll man and the Trololo man as they performed their respective songs that would one day mutate into memes.

"If you think these holograms are impressive, wait till you see this one," said Strawburry17 as she stepped onto a platform entitled Where the Hell is Matt? "Come on. Dance with the world."

HurricaneAubrey got onto the platform, and the next thing she knew, they were immersed in the various landscapes of the earth, with the holographic images of Matt and his peers dancing right besides them. Strawburry17 motioned HurricaneAubrey to dance along, and wanting to have some carefree fun, HurricaneAubrey began dancing enthusiastically. There danced on the windswept cliffs of Paro, Bhutan, danced through the rain in Stone Town, Zanzibar, danced in a giddy crowd in Madrid, Spain, danced in the ominous Korean Demilitarized Zone, etc.

"The museum's staff is particularly proud of this exhibit in its stimulation of the five senses of the world," explained Strawburry17. They were at the part when Matt was hit by a humungous wave in Tongatapu, Tonga. The holographic wave hit HurricaneAubrey and Strawburry17, and though they were inside an enclosed dome, it felt like they were actually there in Tonga. "Stop" said Strawburry17. The wave stopped just before crashing into the ground. "How real was that wave?"

"Like we were present with Matt," answered HurricaneAubrey as she felt that her hair was somewhat wet.

"That is what we called an immersive experience here at the museum. You saw and heard the wave, but you also felt the force of the wave pushing on you, the smell of the wave's components, and tasted the water of Tonga. It was through the brilliant and enlightened minds of the Institute that all of this was possible," remarked Strawburry17.

After a few more moments in the Where the Hell is Matt? Exhibit (which included swimming underwater with a humpback whale in Vava'u, Tonga and undergoing stimulated weightlessness in Nellis Airspace, Nevada), HurricaneAubrey and Strawburry17 moved onto the Websites Dome. The Websites Dome had exhibits on the obviously notable websites like YouTube, Wikipedia, Facebook, and Twitter. HurricaneAubrey wondered why this Dome seemed uninteresting to her. Maybe it was that the exhibits here weren't as interactive as in the Meme Dome. Maybe it was that she used these websites daily that it was redundant to learn about them (seeing that she was fully knowledgeable on how to use them). But there was one exhibit in the Websites Dome that caught her attention: Ancient Myspace.

"Ancient Myspace," explained Strawburry17 as she walked between the Greek Corinthian columns with HurricaneAubrey. "For many years, Myspace was the envy of the entire internet as its population and influence increased, and in its Golden Age, it was a cosmopolitan place where people conducted business and made acquaintances with friends and family members. But in a combination of bad fortune, hubris, and greed, Myspace declined rapidly, and today, it's now a desolate wasteland where its leaders have torn down the architecture of old Myspace, with the intent of using the stones to build monuments and temples to Social Entertainment."

As they walked through Ancient Myspace, HurricaneAubrey saw the exhibit Height of Greatness, which showed Myspace president Tom Anderson, clothed in an ancient Greek chiton and wearing a battle helmet, speaking to his Myspace subjects about his prospering domain on the internet. Later on, she saw the exhibit The Exile, where Tom Anderson was dressed up as a shepherd as he was being banished from once-thriving city-state of Myspace, which was being taken apart piece by piece in the background.

"Was this the eventual fate of all websites in the future?" thought HurricaneAubrey as she saw the tormented face of Tom as he saw the cannibalization of Myspace behind him.

At the Internet Personalities Dome, HurricaneAubrey learned about the various men and women who have inaugurated the internet's many paradigm shifts. The exhibits in the Internet Personalities Dome were a combination of holographic projections and solid information boards. She saw Tay Zonday as he performed Chocolate Rain, a profound song commenting on the continuation of racism in the modern world. She saw the Gregory Brothers perform their various Auto-Tune songs in providing backup support for British Prime Minister Winston Churchill and Civil Rights leader Martin Luther King Jr. And then she turned her attention towards an exhibit known as Fred Figglehorn.

"Why was this evil boy in the Museum of Internet Culture?" thought HurricaneAubrey as she stared into Fred's wicked smile. "Maybe he had a place in the museum for his high influence on the culture of the internet, however infamous it may be."

HurricaneAubrey scanned the entire dome in every direction, but no matter how hard she looked, she couldn't locate an exhibit on the Nostalgia Critic or the Angry Video Game Nerd.

"That's odd," HurricaneAubrey remarked. "I thought the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd would be inducted into the museum." She felt disappointed that Fred Figglehorn was in the museum and not the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd.

After being introduced or reintroduced to the internet's most influential people, HurricaneAubrey was back in the Central Dome, and along with Strawburry17, they were eating lunch at the Central Food Court. Strawburry17 was eating a Chocolate Rain sundae while HurricaneAubrey was eating a Nyan Cat rainbow cake. HurricaneAubrey found the Nyan Cat rainbow cake delicious as each color of Nyan Cake's rainbow each had a different flavor.

"Do you want to eat a piece of the blue bow, my little Nyan Cat?" said HurricaneAubrey as she held the fork with the blue cake piece to the mouth of her Nyan Cat stuffed animal.

"You seem to be acting like a little girl today, Aubrey," noted Strawburry17 as she ate another piece of the Chocolate Rain sundae.

"Thank you. My trip to the Museum of Internet Culture takes me back to my childhood. You see, my family frequently traveled from the borough of Brooklyn to the many museums found on the island of Manhattan," explained HurricaneAubrey as she tried to remember her experience at New York's prestigious museums. "I was in elementary school when I first went to the Museum of Modern Art, and it was there I was first introduced to art. Of course, I was unable to comprehend the many intricacies of the artworks themselves at such a young age, but nevertheless, I was taken in by the colors of the paintings, using my own crayons to capture the colors of Vincent van Gogh's The Starry Night and Andrew Wyeth Christina's World. When I went back to the MOMA in high school, I saw these two pictures again and was able to appreciate them on a more mature level. I loved The Starry Night for more than its ingenious use of colors by understanding that Vincent van Gogh overcame his many psychological ailments to paint such a beautiful painting. I viewed Christina's World with the knowledge that the subject was suffering from polio as she laid there in the field, making the painting a reflection on the struggle over disease in living a fulfilling life."

"You must be well rehearsed in New York City's museums if your family frequented them," said Strawburry17.

"Yes," answered HurricaneAubrey. "Let me tell you about my trip to the American Museum of Natural History."

But before she was able to talk about her experience at the American Museum of Natural History, a man came up to them with a couple of people in lab coats.

"And remind my girlfriend not to call me again today," said the English-accented man to his associates in lab coat. The English-accented man handed his cell phone to the other workers.

"Was this the legendary George Zazz?" thought HurricaneAubrey. She saw that the man had safari gear on him, like the holographic projection in the movie theater. "Are you George Zazz or are you a holographic image of him?" asked HurricaneAubrey to the man.

"I am George Zazz in the flesh," said the smiling man as he kissed HurricaneAubrey's hand. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am George Zazz, the foremost expert of everything on the internet. Explorer of uncharted lands of the South, from the woods of South Carolina to the suburbs of Florida. Recipient of many praises from many universities and the general public. And voted the most handsome by the YouTube community."

Strawburry17 gave an encouraging smile to HurricaneAubrey as George Zazz was talking about his life. HurricaneAubrey was feeling that Mr. Zazz was hiding many secrets behind all of his bravado.

"I first gained the public's attention from two award-winning documentaries: Teens in the Wild and Girlfriends in the Wild. Seeing ambition in me, the Institute of Internet Studies hired me, and through my own efforts, I managed to reach the top position of the Institute after the unexpected resignation of Jamie Dubs," explained George Zazz. "I am a man with a backbone of steel and a body of a rhino. Nobody can boss me around when I have travelled through the darkest recesses of human soul. For I am ….. what is it now!?"

George Zazz was being tapped on the shoulder by one of the scientist, who was holding a ringing cell phone. Feeling annoyed, Mr. Zazz picked up the phone to answer it.

"What is it this time?" answered George Zazz. HurricaneAubrey saw that an American accent was present in Mr. Zazz's voice. "So what if I forgot about our anniversary again. I am the head of one of the greatest institution in the world. I can't be bothered by your mindless complaining. You must know that my staff and I are working round the clock to get this museum open to the general public." From HurricaneAubrey's perspective, Mr. Zazz was listening to incomprehensible ramblings on the phone. "What do you mean I would have more time with you if I was working back at the petting zoo? Can you understand the magnitude of my ambition?" Mr. Zazz let out a terrified gasp. "What?! Are you really threatening to come straight to Silicon Valley and confront me right here in the heart of the Museum of Internet Culture? All right, all right. I'll just make sure that we have a villa on the French Riviera. And I'm begging you not to call me again." Mr. Zazz hanged up the phone. "And you wonder why I had to edit her out in my Girlfriends in the Wild documentary," whispered George Zazz to his staff.

"He used to work at a petting zoo?" asked HurricaneAubrey to Strawburry17 as she tried to hide her giggles.

"Yep. He doesn't know that most of the staff is aware of this embarrassing secret. We often joke about it behind his back."

"Anyway," said George Zazz as he shifted his attention back to HurricaneAubrey. "I would like to take you to a location that is kept hidden from the public. Maybe it would finally convince you to join the Institute of Internet Studies."

"Why does the Institute have a secret property that the public is unaware of?" asked HurricaneAubrey with a perplexed expression on her face. "I can understand the Institute not sharing its history about the Internet Police as that organization's existence is hidden from the public, but as Strawburry17 told me, the Institute is supposed to be a vision of an open and honest scientific agency."

"I think you are a little too young to comprehend that some promises must be broken for the greater good," admitted George Zazz. "But I really think going to the secret place would convince you of the Institute's dream for a better tomorrow."

And before she knew it, HurricaneAubrey was back in the I.I.S. helicopter and her two companions were Strawburry17 and George Zazz. As the helicopter traveled to a destination inaccessible to the public, HurricaneAubrey saw that Strawburry17 and George Zazz had distinct expressions on their faces: Strawburry17 was looking nervous and unsure whereas George Zazz was feeling excited and gleeful. The helicopter made its way over the Pacific Ocean, and HurricaneAubrey was wondering why Strawburry17 was not looking forward to introducing her to the site and why George Zazz seemed ecstatic at the prospect.

"We're here," said George Zazz as the helicopter arrived on an island far from the coast of California. The entire island was dominated by a stark concrete building. The helicopter landed on a landing pad just outside a fence surrounding the entire building.

"Prepare for the unpredictable," thought HurricaneAubrey. "I should have known that the Institute of Internet Studies' policy of transparency was a lie. What terrible secret could be on this island that would force the Institute to discard openness?"

Making their way through several security checkpoints inside the building, they soon reached a platform which gave way to a view of a cafeteria. The three individuals (the naïve girl in a Summer Outfit, the experienced female scientist now donned in a lab coat, and the modern Great White Hunter in safari gear) looked upon a site to behold in either awe or horror. In the cafeteria below, HurricaneAubrey saw ordinary Americans of many races, genders, and sizes being served disgusting gruel, which they ate with much difficulty. They were wearing blue jumpsuits, with the back of these attires emblazoned with white numbers. HurricaneAubrey saw the grim faces of the people arriving into the cafeteria to sit down and chow down on a less than satisfactory meal.

"Shouldn't these people be served something more nutritious and delicious?" inquired HurricaneAubrey.

"That's what I keep suggesting George Zazz," answered Strawburry17. "He keeps saying to me 'these brutes don't deserve to feast like royalty by how uncivilized they are. This is their punishment for being savages.'"

"Isn't it wonderful," exclaimed George Zazz as he leaned on the railing in admiration. "This is Utopia Island."

"So that's why the movie back at the Museum of Internet Culture was called An Idyllic Utopia," thought HurricaneAubrey. "It was a reference to this location and what George Zazz might have considered his most crowning achievement."

"I think I know what you're thinking, Aubrey," said George Zazz as they walked amongst the trailer houses. "You're assuming that this is my greatest contribution to the world. And you are absolutely right. Utopia Island is a reformatory dedicated to eradicating the degenerate elements of American society. For many years, America has been lambasted by the other countries of the world, with complaints such as having overweight people and brain-dead young people (particularly the immature and angst-driven teenager female). It was my idea to find and capture these savage beings and bring them here to be reformed. The I.I.S. has ventured into the darkest parts of America to track down and hunt down these beasts, bringing them to Utopia Island. All in all, the purpose of Utopia Island is to promote civilization in America by exterminating the elements running contrary to the idea of a future utopia."

George Zazz saw HurricaneAubrey breathing rapidly but thought nothing of it. Strawburry17 held HurricaneAubrey's hand and squeezed tightly out of comfort.

"I will leave it up to you Strawburry17 to show Aubrey more of Utopia Island," said George Zazz as he left them to attend to other affairs.

Strawburry17 saw the sadness in HurricaneAubrey's eyes as she tried to open her mouth, but HurricaneAubrey interrupted her before she could perform such an act.

"What is all this?! These people are arrested and sent to live in a penal colony when they haven't been convicted of any wrongdoings. These people may have some physical and psychological deformities, but that wouldn't be enough to have them sent to an uncharted island. Why did the Institute agree to all this, and why didn't you stop George Zazz from violating basic human rights?" asked HurricaneAubrey to a bewildered Strawburry17.

Strawburry17 knew she had to be as sensitive and as reasonable as she could in answering HurricaneAubrey's questions. HurricaneAubrey needed to understand Utopia Island from her more altruistic point of view rather than the aggressive and arrogant viewpoint of Mr. Zazz. She took a deep breath and spoke.

"What you must know is that we are at a critical juncture in our country's history. Right now, our nation is crumbling under the weight of our increasingly obese population and the rebellious youth. We face a future where the United States of America will be nothing more than a nation of idiots and leeches," explained Strawburry17. "We at the Institute of Internet Studies have devoted our time and energy of preventing such an apocalyptic event through the reformation of certain segments of American society. Don't you see the good we are doing here on Utopia Island, HurricaneAubrey? We bring these Americans who could potentially destroy society to Utopia Island to help them become productive and cultured as well as bring about a futuristic utopia. You must see the big picture, HurricaneAubrey."

After finishing their meal, the people in the cafeteria got up and went their separate ways.

"I'll show you what we do to reform the obese Americans," said Strawburry17 as she ran from the platform above the cafeteria into the passageways.

After going through a series of passageways (which appeared to be only accessible to the Institute's staff), Strawburry17 and HurricaneAubrey emerged onto another platform, which was suspended above a track. HurricaneAubrey saw the fat people walk onto the track, and when they got there, they heard a whistle blow, prompting them to run around the track many times.

"For the morbidly obese, we try to make them exercise as much as possible in removing that extra weight that is keeping America down," explained Strawburry17. "America is hated throughout the internet because of its obese population. If the Institute of Internet Studies is able to reform these people by rigorous physical training, then America will once again earn the internet's respect."

HurricaneAubrey saw a fat man fall to the ground, sweating and panting excessively. All of a sudden, he was surrounded by Institute scientists, who shocked him repeatedly with electric prods. The man saw George Zazz towering above him like a god.

"And you wonder why Americans are hated by the world, you filthy man?" said George Zazz as he kicked the man on the head. "I earned the right to hurt you because of the will of the internet. Because the obese are despised throughout the World Wide Web, the collective population of the internet would applaud at this act considering I am a man who fits the description of being athletic and civilized, attributes not befitting of you." George Zazz then clapped his hands. "My fellow scientists. Force this man to run around the track like a true civilized man."

HurricaneAubrey saw the helpless fat man being shocked over and over again by the Institute scientists. Was the torture of fat people really the will of the internet?

"And what are you planning to do with these young people you kidnapped?" asked HurricaneAubrey as she turned her attention away from the track.

"I'm assuming you're asking this question because you are young yourself, HurricaneAubrey," said Strawburry17.

"That may be the reason," said HurricaneAubrey. She was also thinking about her younger sister, who was at home in Brooklyn without a care in the world. Was she a potential candidate for Utopia Island?

"I was once young and careless. I once listened to whatever mainstream music was available. I have since matured into a responsible adult," said Strawburry17. "As an adult, I saw how America was falling apart from its rotten youth as indicated by how unpopular America is nowadays. I have seen American and foreign websites state that America was collapsing not only because of its obesity epidemic but also because of the lack of culture and sophistication found in the younger generations of Americans. I believe that it is the will of the internet that we must reeducate these barbaric youths and make them more elegant and virtuous."

Strawburry17 led HurricaneAubrey to an observation deck that had a view of several rectangular glass containers. HurricaneAubrey saw the subjects standing within them were younger than or about the same age as herself. The subjects wore headphones, listening to what HurricaneAubrey would interpret as music.

"How about you listen to what their hearing?" suggested Strawburry17 as she handed headphones to HurricaneAubrey.

Preparing for the unpredictable and anticipating the worst, HurricaneAubrey placed the headphones inside her ears and listened. She was listening to what appeared to be a modern pop song. The song wasn't even half bad, and she saw that the subjects were smiling to the pop song. Just then, a loud alarm rang into her headphones, alarming HurricaneAubrey and apparently all of the young inhabitants of the glass containers. And immediately after that, HurricaneAubrey saw the subjects down below being administered an electric shock, bringing them down to their knees. The same pop music began playing into the headphones once again, but this time, the subjects were repulsed by it.

"Classical conditioning," explained Strawburry17 as she smiled. "Are you familiar with Pavlov's Dog?"

"The one where a dog was conditioned to salivate at the sound of a bell due to the dog having previously heard a bell being rung in the presence of food?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"Exactly," said Strawburry17. Just as Pavlov's dog was trained to hear the ringing of a bell as a positive event, we have conditioned these young people to hate modern pop songs by electrocuting them, so when they hear any other pop songs, they will instinctively despise it due to their negative memories of being shocked for having listened to it.

"And is it effective," asked HurricaneAubrey.

"Yes and no," answered Strawburry17. "The results have yielded a low percentage of success. The Institute scientists have been frustrated by how persistence and stubborn many of the subjects are in resisting classical conditioning by maintaining their love for pop music. But not to worry, we at the Institute are committed to improving our odds of producing individuals who have a disdain for modern pop music and have a love for classical music."

The subjects within the glass containers were shouting insults toward the Institute scientists as they banging relentlessly on the glass. Strawburry17 showed no compassion for these people as she gazed upon them.

"I'll show you the living quarters of our subjects," said Strawburry17.

Passing through the corridors, HurricaneAubrey saw several posters touting the virtues and values of the Nineties and the Institute of Internet Studies. They had slogans such as Destroy These Mad Brutes, The Burden of the Institute of Internet Studies, The Suppression of Savage Customs, and Civilizing America.

"We need a return to the old ways of the Nineties," said Strawburry17. "It is the will of the internet. Ah. Here we are."

Strawburry17 and HurricaneAubrey entered into a room filled with guards standing around and pacing. HurricaneAubrey didn't have the slightest idea of what they were doing until she looked down. The floor was made of glass and revealed the isolated sleeping quarters of the captured people.

"What you see below you are the living spaces for our subjects here on Utopia Island," explained Strawburry17. "The guards up here assist the guards down below in monitoring every action of every subject. Of course, the imprisoned subjects down below are unaware of people watching them from above due to the glass being transparent only from one side (with the subjects only seeing a mirror above them)."

But then, HurricaneAubrey was distracted by something else entirely. Down below, she saw a familiar face in her past, which she had a rather close relationship with. Dressed in an Institute lab coat, HurricaneAubrey saw Zacharyxbinks trying to persuade a Southern accented woman to wear headphones in her bed. Zacharyxbinks was her former boyfriend back in the days of VlogCandy. They developed a type of romantic connection with each other, but through life getting in the way and being unable to being fully committed towards a stable relationship, they decided it was best to just remain friends. Over the years, they had drifted apart from each other, just as she had been drifting away from Strawburry17. HurricaneAubrey saw Zacharyxbinks through the glass floor, and unfortunately, Zacharyxbinks would be unable to see her above.

"A real shame," thought HurricaneAubrey as she stared at Zacharyxbinks, of who was unaware of her presence. "I am closer to him than I had been in years, and yet, he will never know I was right here all along looking down upon him."

"The Institute's scientists are now conditioning our subjects to reject Americanisms like fatty foods, country music, modern television shows, and risqué clothing through hypnopaedia or sleep-learning," said Strawburry17. "Whenever our subjects go to sleep, they will be forced to wear these headphones and listen to messages praising classical music, literature, art, etc. They will learn to reject the vulgarities of modern works. After undergoing many sessions of hypnopaedia, our subjects will hopefully be one step closer to becoming enlightened representatives of the American way of life to the rest of the world."

After learning about all of the methods regarding the Institute's means of crafting the perfect American (from electric torture to sleep therapy), HurricaneAubrey was thinking that there must be a more humane way of stamping out the Eagleland Syndrome pervading American society.

"Please. I urge you to put on these headphones. It would do you much good and would get you back to your husband and children faster," said Zacharyxbinks in a calm and non-patronizing tone as he held the headphones in his hands.

Despite his efforts, the woman attacked Zacharyxbinks in a rage. The guards above saw this and immediately sounded the alarm.

"Get me back to my kids, you despicable man," said the woman as she punched Zacharyxbinks over and over again. She stopped as soon as she saw the guards pointing their guns at her, with George Zazz marching straight into the confinement cell.

"Tut tut," said George Zazz as he picked up Zacharyxbinks from the floor. "You are a little angry beastie after all. Through all of our kindness and our charitable efforts here on Utopia Island, you still attempt to resist us and maintain your savage heritage through your Southern accent and your Southern way of life. Well love, there is only one place for you."

"I beg you not to do this," interrupted Zacharyxbinks as he readjusted his lab coat. "Just give me a few more sessions with her and I can make this work."

"No," answered George Zazz. "It's time for this bitch to reject her barbaric customs and become civilized." He turned to the guards, and with the voice of a merciless king, he gave his final verdict. "Take her to the Island of the Misfits."

"The Island of the Misfits?" asked HurricaneAubrey. "What's that?"

"An island where the most uncontrollable subjects go to," answered Strawburry17. "I myself am unfamiliar with the precise procedures practiced on it, but from what I heard, it is where the most advanced techniques are used in treating the most incurable patients."

HurricaneAubrey saw the woman scream and insult the guards taking her away. George Zazz stared nonchalantly at the woman as he lighted a cigar in his mouth. Zacharyxbinks tried to keep his composure as he walked away from the scene in shame.

"I think I've seen enough of this place," said HurricaneAubrey.

Los Angeles was one of the great metropolitan areas of the United States and possibly the entire world. It was the mecca of filmmakers, musicians, artists, and just about any other fields of human culture. It was a city of beaches, cars, suburbs, and independent thinkers. This great city was surrounded by mountains, one of which was the Santa Monica Mountains. And on this mountain range laid the Getty Center, one of Los Angeles' artistic and cultural treasure. As the California sun began to set on the horizon, HurricaneAubrey was walking through the inner courtyard of the museum, where the fountains were now being illuminated. The people around HurricaneAubrey were talking about their time at the Getty Center and how they will share their experience at the museum to their friends and families. In contrast, HurricaneAubrey, who went to the Getty Center to forget about her troubles, had a less than pleased countenance on her face as she thought about something more ominous and foreboding: the ending of a long friendship. She recalled her confrontation with Strawburry17 as the helicopter returned from Utopia Island to Los Angeles with unbearable sadness.

"I never want to be part of an organization that hunts down Americans and take them to a facility against their will to be tortured and treated as dirt," said HurricaneAubrey to Strawburry17 on the helicopter.

"Can you please listen to me, HurricaneAubrey? The Institute of Internet Studies is simply taking corrupted Americans and reforming them of their wrongdoings. For you to disagree with our actions would be hypocritical considering that the Internet Police also arrest criminals and put them in an Asylum to be reformed," said Strawburry17 as she talked to HurricaneAubrey on the opposite end of the helicopter.

"There is no comparison between the Internet Police and the Institute of Internet Studies," explained HurricaneAubrey. "For one thing, the Internet Police only tracks down criminals that have been proven dangerous beyond the reasonable doubt, and in the Asylum, they are treated as humanely as possible. On the Institute of Internet Studies' Utopia Island, ordinary Americans are tormented like hardened criminals for minor infractions like listening to modern music or being somewhat corpulent. Let's compare both organizations to the removal of a cancerous tumor. The Internet Police tries to remove the few criminals from society in a cost-effective and undamaging manner, comparable to how a cancerous tumor would be removed with as little effect as possible on the unaffected areas surrounding it. On the other hand, the Institute of Internet Studies is performing blunt surgery by removing a large percentage of the U.S. population (of who have not breached any moral or legal boundaries) and reforming them at Utopia Island, which would be analogous to cutting off an entire leg instead of the cancerous tumor found within it. Case in point, why must innocent people suffer for the Institute's attainment of a utopian future?"

Strawburry17 looked into the eyes of HurricaneAubrey and then at the Nyan Cat stuffed animal held in her hands. She sighed as she gave her reason for the Institute's plan.

"All of the people on Utopia Island are there for a reason," said Strawburry17 in a patronizing tone. "I saw you back at the Institute clutching your Nyan Cat stuffed animal like a sweet, idealistic little girl, and you were even playing tea time with it. You seemed okay with me calling you a little girl, as if you wanted to be a little girl forever. It explains a lot about you. You really think that all the problems in the world will just go away if everyone hold hands and sing Somewhere over the Rainbow."

"Of course not!" shouted HurricaneAubrey angrily. I just…"

"The problem with today's world lies much deeper than just a few troubled men and women. America has lost its reputation it had worked so hard to obtain, one of progress and civilization," said Strawburry17. "In the 20th century, America was an inspiration to the entire world as a bastion of democracy and freedom. As the 20th century began, immigrants from Eastern and Southern Europe passed through the golden gates of America to establish a new life in a strange and exciting nation on the cusp of greatness. America deserved to be called beautiful in the early parts of the 20th century as intellectuals of the day praised America for its innovators and free thinkers, from Thomas Edison to the Wright Brothers. Despite the turmoil of the Great Depression and World War II, America was able to become the greatest nation on earth thanks to the contributions of the Greatest Generation, whose men fought on the battlefields of World War II and its women working in the war factories. The 1950s were a golden age for America as the Greatest Generation settled down and had families, with the beautifully maintained suburbs being the residence for a new generation of Americans. The last fifty years of the 20th century saw America give to the world such gifts like microwave ovens, moon landings, computers, and the internet (not the World Wide Web mind you as that was a European invention). The 1990s can be considered the last hurrah of the American Century as it was the last time America would be respected almost universally by the entire world. In the 1990s, American capitalism and freedom had won over much of the world with the end of the Cold War against the Soviet Union. On the internet, I saw that everybody viewed the 1990s as the happiest time of their lives. It was a period of sunshine and endless potential as the economy boomed under a Democratic president who knew what he was doing. According to the internet, everything was better in the 1990s: the television shows, video games, music, books, movies, cars, and the quality of life."

"And what exactly happened after the 1990s to necessitate the Institute of Internet Studies to reform ordinary and innocent Americans on Utopia Island?" asked HurricaneAubrey. She knew the answer had something to do with President Beck, but she wanted to know what other factors led to a change in the Institute of Internet Studies policy of non-intervention as dictated by Jamie Dubs.

Strawburry17 voice became more cynical and bitter as she answered HurricaneAubrey's question.

"The Turn of the Millennium was the beginning of the end for America. By a majority of the internet, Y2K happened in a more subtle way relating to how morality and intelligence has declined dramatically. After a much disputed election, Billy Bob Beck of Texas became the first president of the 21st century, and after mismanaging the country throughout his two-terms in office, the internet widely believed him to be the bringer of the Y2K curse. President Beck created this stereotype of Americans being uneducated, rude, boisterous, and violent by his poorly-thought out war on terror and his mannerisms in office. President Beck was able to annihilate a century of America's reputation as a progressive and forward thinking nation in just eight years, with Americans now seen as just grunting country bumpkins who wants to invade everywhere," explained Strawburry17 with anger in her eyes. "The Y2K curse wasn't based entirely of Beck's abhorrent presidency. The curse came in the form of reality shows pandering to the lowest common denominator, lowering the attention span and intelligence of Americans. And to add another injury, the fast food craze of the Turn of the Millennium led to Americans becoming fatter than ever before, further reducing America's status as a nation of intellectuals."

Strawburry17 and HurricaneAubrey sat in silence as they thought about their opinions about the state of America and of human nature itself. The only sounds came from the blades of the helicopter's propellers and the crashing waves on the California coastline.

"Don't you get it, HurricaneAubrey? Innumerable Americans have been corrupted by the Y2K curse coming in many forms, and the internet community has been clamoring for these Americans to be exterminated off the face of the earth. Therefore, it is by the will of the internet that the Institute of Internet Studies carries the burden of capturing these Americans and reforming them. We have been granted a task by the internet to civilize America and stamp out the evils within by any means possible," said Strawburry17 with confidence in her voice.

"Isn't there a nicer way of civilizing the Americans not meeting the internet's standards of civility? And isn't it too much of a stretch to suggest that the whole internet would agree with your company's unconstitutional program?" questioned HurricaneAubrey in quick succession.

"When I first entered into the Institute of Internet Studies, I was young and carefree as I conducted experiments under the leadership of Jamie Dubs," stated Strawburry17. "He had this philosophy of leaving nature alone as the Institute's field scientists studied the people from a distance. After the ascension of George Zazz as the head of the Institute, the practice of non-interference was abandoned in favor of rebuilding America to the Institute's liking. In ecology, invasive species decimate the native population in a local environment, and it is the Institute's belief that the Turn of the Millennium brought about a new subspecies of Americans destroying the natural order of 20th century America. Normally, invasive species are exterminated by humans as an amends for tampering with nature. The Institute is compassionate enough to allow these Americans to be reformed. I know that George Zazz can be incredibly cruel towards the subjects, but given some time to work out the bugs in the program, the Institute's Utopian Project will be the savior of the American way of life."

"You haven't answered my question about how constitutional the Institute's actions are," repeated HurricaneAubrey.

"What does constitutional rights matter to the possible end of the American republic?!" shouted Strawburry17. She was really annoyed by how HurricaneAubrey inability to understand the grand scheme of the Institute's altruism. "The internet doesn't care about the rights of humans. It only cares about the sustenance of civilization and order, and by the will of the internet, the Institute has been ordained to carry out the mission of suppressing the savages of America. Apparently, you think the world is full of rainbows and angels by how you are still a little girl clinging to an idealistic fantasy. Guess what, humanity is demonic in nature and deserves to be punished by the Institute of Internet Studies by the will of the internet."

"It is not the will of the internet that the Institute capture and torture innocent Americans," countered HurricaneAubrey. "I do not believe that the internet would agree to such crimes against humanity. Yes I know that American is crumbling into a black hole as of this moment. I just think that there must be another way of saving it that does not involve unlawful arrests of innocent bystanders."

"If the will of the internet dictates the Institute of Internet Studies has the right to hunt down troublesome Americans, would you fight against it. Because we all know how the internet deals with people that disagree with it," said Strawburry17.

"First of all, I believe that the internet would be aghast by the Institute's constructs of a utopian world, and even if the whole internet was against me, I would…."

But her mouth was unable to complete the sentence. Strawburry17 was right about one thing: going against the entire internet was both impossible and incredibly hazardous. The viewpoint the internet takes was absolute and unchangeable. No person has ever won in a fight against the entire internet. HurricaneAubrey looked at Strawburry17, who had a smile on her face. It was not a friendly or reassuring smile. It was a smile of smugness and resentment.

"You see. You are just a child who cannot handle the truth about the adult world. It's time for you to get out of your sandbox and grow up. Accept the fact that brutality and oppression is the way of the future and is what the internet desires."

As she looked upon the outdoor café of the Getty Center, HurricaneAubrey remembered when she finally got off the helicopter and looked back at Strawburry17, the point where their friendship had ended. Strawburry17 looked at her with contempt and disappointment. They were now separated on the philosophical spectrum, with Strawburry17 believing in the cruelty of humankind's soul and HurricaneAubrey maintaining humanity's inherent goodness. Their friendship ended with no farewell speech and no goodbyes. HurricaneAubrey saw her former friend leave on the helicopter with relief.

"I knew that the state of the union had worsened under the Beck administration and how I was having problems connecting with the older generation," thought HurricaneAubrey. "I had no idea that the situation was far worse. The failures of the Beck administration and the escalating divisions in America have forced a once benevolent Institute to engage in a war against everyday Americans. I know that these Americans can be taught to be tolerant of other cultures, love classical works, and to be healthier through less intrusive methods. My belief is absolutely true."

HurricaneAubrey entered into the Getty Center's Central Garden. It was hard to be entranced by the flowing water and the diverse vegetation as she thought about the nature of humanity.

"What could lead Strawburry17 to abandon all hopes for humanity and be so dehumanized as to accept the practices on Utopia Island?" thought HurricaneAubrey. "What did she see when she was working as an Institute scientist? Was it the primeval and underdeveloped form of humanity she saw in the Americans she studied? Was it so terrifying to her that she became convinced that only the most extreme of measures was needed to eradicate the form out? And why would Zacharyxbinks, her former boyfriend, continue to work at the Institute if he knew how excessive its punishments were (though she felt that he had some humanity left in him)?"

"Strawburry17 was right about one thing: I need to grow up and accept the darkness in the world. Life is like a work of art, similar to the artworks she saw in the Museum of Modern Art and the Museum of Internet Culture," thought HurricaneAubrey as she approached the far end of the garden, which had a sunset view of Los Angeles. "Like my time in the MOMA and the MIC, I saw life through romanticized generalizations and pretty hues, but just as I saw more behind the pigments and the fancy technology of the art pieces of those two museums, I now see how bleak life can be. By growing up and knowing this fact, I can make a difference in the world."

HurricaneAubrey gave a reluctant smile as she looked upon the 405 Freeway from the Getty Center. She saw the multitudes of cars traveling on one of America's greatest highways, with the cars moving to and from the city of Los Angeles illuminated by the descending sun.

"But what if the entire internet was willing to support the Institute and not me?" thought HurricaneAubrey as her smile vanish as she was overwhelmed with despair. "Should I just abandon all hope for Americans being taught values and manners peacefully? I am maintaining my child-like optimism as it is the only thing keeping me sane in this world, even if it may be ridiculous and unrealistic."

HurricaneAubrey saw the horizon of the Los Angeles area with remarkable clarity. But the horizon of life would be more difficult to decipher and navigate across. HurricaneAubrey took out her smartphone, and on the various forums of the World Wide Web, she asked the most important question of a post-industrial world at a critical juncture of its history: What is the will of the internet?

**A/N: What do you think is the will of the internet? Does the Institute of Internet Studies in this story have a legitimate reason for its utopian program? Please review this story as a means of giving me your opinions regarding it. Give me suggestions on what internet phenomena or memes should be included in the story. **


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